


Moon Dust on Your Lips

by saekokato



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, General DCU shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, No set universe, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 00:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekokato/pseuds/saekokato
Summary: The Justice League, through their Green Lantern members, were slowly making contact with planets that had technology or knowledge greater than their own.   It was something they all traded off on, but at the end of the day, Bruce and Hal ended up on these trips more often than not.At least the two of them had started getting along over the last few years.Of course, getting along with Bruce had the unfortunate side effect of dialing Hal’s crush on the man up to nearly 3000.  Hal could handle the fact that the man was smoking hot.Halwas smoking hot; all of the damned League was.  It wasn’t anything special, wasn’t anything worth getting worked up about, was what Hal was getting at.“Well, Jordan, you made the bed, you stupid blind fuck,” Hal muttered.  He texted Bruce back, letting him know that he was on his way.  “Now it’s time to climb on in.”





	Moon Dust on Your Lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arsenic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/gifts).

> Art is by the extremely lovely, _extremely_ patient [vertigod](https://vertigod.tumblr.com/). [Find the deliciousness here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897513/)
> 
> She was wonderful to work with, extremely patient with me, both because I'm a terrible communicator and because somewhere in all of this my brain decided to add 15,000 words and more hurt/comfort than originally planned.
> 
> **Housekeeping:**I do not consent to this work or any of my work being uploaded or displayed through third party apps and websites. If you are viewing this work through an app that makes money from advertisements, please close the app and view my work for free on the original Ao3 page.

|-|

Space was not a place Hal would have chosen to spend a great deal of time in. Going to different planets, seeing new stars and alien races and spacecraft? Yeah, easily done, coolest things ever. But space itself? Eh. 

Mostly it was boring. And Hal hated being bored.

Flying on Earth (or anywhere with gravity, really) had substance to it. There was the weight and pressure of the g-forces you pulled, the air moving around you, the _sounds_. It was visceral and, ironically, grounding. 

Space was nothing like that. It was silence and weightlessness and emptiness. Even if your spaceship lost power or propulsion, it wasn’t as worrying as it was if you were Earthside. Because it wasn’t like you were plummeting to the ground. No, you were just left floating there. 

_Boring_.

|-|

The Justice League, through their Green Lantern members, were slowly making contact with planets that had technology or knowledge greater than their own. Anything that could give them a leg up on the increasingly difficult bad guys they kept going up against. Or those they wanted to keep from attacking Earth, or had the power to prevent others from attacking.

Basically, Earth needed allies, and there wasn’t anyone else lining up to get them.

It was something they all traded off on, but at the end of the day their best negotiators were one of the Big Three. Of them, Batman was by far the best at it and the one most able to go to these meetings. And Hal, having been a Green Lantern the longest, ended up on these trips more often than not. 

At least the two of them had started getting along over the last few years. Hal had started just ignoring the more cutting of Bruce’s comments, and the less Hal reacted, the less Bruce snapped. Not to say they didn’t still argue or disagree about, well, _everything_. But their arguments were no longer the things of legend. And Hal started saving calling Bruce a ‘strawberry frosted douche canoe’ for those truly special occasions.

Of course, getting along with Bruce had the unfortunate side effect of dialing Hal’s crush on the man up to nearly 3000. Hal could handle the fact that the man was smoking hot. _Hal_ was smoking hot; all of the damned League was. It wasn’t anything special, wasn’t anything worth getting worked up about, was what Hal was getting at. 

But ignoring the man’s hotness wasn’t helpful when Hal finally stopped getting the brunt of Bruce’s constant disappointment. That just made it easier to clock to Bruce’s good traits - his intelligence, his competence, his dry humor, his stupid amounts of compassion. And _that_ was a hell of a lot harder for Hal to ignore. 

Because, let’s face it, Bruce was hot, smart, insanely good at just about everything, including giving orders, and he was willing to be an asshole at any given point. He was the guy that not only would track down the asshole that stole candy from the baby, he’d set up a fund to keep the entire neighborhood in candy and dental care _and_ he’d try to figure out a way to help the asshole who’d done it in the first place. Hal should hate everything the man stood for, but instead it was like he was the physical manifestation of damn near every one of Hal’s wet dreams into one mildly insane package.

|-|

About a year into their new getting along-ness, Bruce had added Hal to his expanded guest list for Dick’s birthday bash. Diana and Clark, Oliver and Dinah, Barry and Iris, they were the ones who usually got Bruce’s invites. Hal had heard about the event - Dick was a popular guy throughout all of the various super hero groups - but he certainly hadn’t expected the invite. He hadn’t actually planned on being on planet that particular night - but Bruce had asked _nicely_ \- if he could talk to Hal after the bi-weekly League meeting.

Hal, a little shocked and confused, had waited for Bruce instead of wandering off with Oliver and Barry as was his usual. “Things good, Spooky?”

Bruce had rolled his eyes at the nicknames, but Hal caught the small quirk of a smile at the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “‘Things’ are fine, Jordan. Nightwing had just asked that I pass along an invite to his birthday bash.” 

Hal blinked at Bruce and at the small invite he was holding out to Hal. “Seriously?” he couldn’t help asking as he took the invite, which actually was an invite to ‘One Richard Grayson’s Birthday Bash!’

“Seriously,” Bruce confirmed, all dry tones. “You made an impression when you helped Nightwing out last year.” 

Hal smiled at the reminder. He wasn’t ever going to understand Dick’s fascination with Bludhaven, but helping Dick out on a case with suspected (but not actual, fortunately) alien contribution had been fun. “That was a fun week; Nightwing is damned good at what he does.” 

“Yes, he is,” Bruce agreed. He sounded…softer than normal, and he had a proud little smile on his face when Hal looked up. He looked, for the first time Hal had ever witnessed, like a dad. A proud dad at that.

(And there was a thought. When had Bruce gotten comfortable enough with Hal, that he’d take the cowl down, even in a semi-private area of the Watchtower? More things to boggle at.) 

Hal watched Bruce for a moment, taken back a little by the view of something he’d known intellectually, but had never personally seen himself. Bruce was frighteningly good at separating himself from the other portions of his life when he was Batman. It’d taken a good deal of research (okay, Barry rolling his eyes and forcing Hal through an internet search) before Hal had even known that Bruce _had_ kids. 

Eventually, though, Bruce had cocked an eyebrow at Hal. Which was when Hal realized that he had been staring at Bruce for god only knows how long. He looked down, quickly, at the invitation, willing himself not to blush. “Tell Dick I’ll be there.”

That was the first time Bruce had ever smiled at Hal. Like full on, sunshine through the windows, smiled. Hal wasn’t sure he’d managed to hide how it had taken his breath away.

|-|

The party had been fun, much more so then Hal had been expecting. It was interesting, too, watching Bruce be Bruce, and not his ‘Batman in a Bruce-suit’ routine. It was easy to tell that Bruce had been born into this kind of thing - the lots of people and parties and hosting thing - even if one also knew that Bruce was more of a ‘comfortable with a few close friends’ type of person. Granted, just about everyone at the party was someone who knew about the whole second, secret nightlife of the various Bats, so that probably added something to Bruce’s comfort level.

And the man certainly had more children than Hal had been expecting. 

“They aren’t all his, technically,” Dinah told him. Hal had asked her who exactly was who because there were about thirty more people here than Hal had been expecting. Seeing them all as a collective group and without their telltale colors and symbols was making it hard to differentiate between those Hal had actually met, those he had only heard of, or those who were just plain new. 

The two of them were hanging out in the corner of the big ballroom. One end of the large room had been decked out with food and drink and the other end had a massive obstacle course. There was a group of kids - well, people at and under their mid-twenties - egging each other on, calling out crazy dares, and generally making fools of themselves. 

“His actual kids,” she continued as she blatantly pointed at person in turn, “are Dick, Jason, Cassandra, Tim, Damien, and Duke. He adopted them all, except Damien, who is his actual flesh and blood son. Then there’s Stephanie and Helena, and basically every other child his children bring home with them.”

“What you’re telling me, then, is that Bruce is actually the neighborhood dad that never locks his door and is always dragging in strays if they don’t escape fast enough,” Hal joked.

“Basically, yeah,” Dinah agreed. She leaned against Hal’s side, and Hal wrapped an easy arm around her shoulders. 

“Weird to think of Batman as the neighborhood dad,” he quipped. 

“Yeah, maybe. But not so much Bruce Wayne,” she returned. 

Hal didn’t have an answer for that. Dinah and Oliver knew Bruce Wayne better than Hal did. (And, let’s face it, just about everyone else did. Barry and Oliver had certainly never let go of Hal not knowing who the fuck Bruce Wayne was in the beginning.) Hal was beginning to realize just how little he did know about Batman’s alter ego. He would just have to trust Dinah’s opinion on this.

|-|

Bruce cornered Hal a few hours later. Hal had been making the rounds, one last time, saying goodbye to Dick and the few other people that he actually knew fairly well. Hal was due off planet in a few days, and he wanted to make sure he got a bit of rest before he left. Things had been…weird, the last time he’d been to Oa, and weird usually meant not great things.

“What’s up, Spooky?” Hal asked. He’d just finished saying goodbyes to Dick and Jason (who, okay, was anyone going to warn him that Bruce’s kid Jason was also Red Hood Jason and _also_ second Robin Jason and that there was a tsunami of shit floating around that whole deal? Because, damn, was that not something you should just throw a guy into, seriously people), and turned around to find Bruce lurking behind him. 

Which explained the eye twitch Jason had suddenly developed. 

“Heard you were heading out. I just wanted to thank you again for coming,” Bruce said. His eyes trailed after his sons before he turned his full attention on Hal. He acknowledged Hal’s knowing grin with a small smile of his own, one that was decidedly more self-deprecating. “I love my children, all of them, but even that doesn’t always help.”

Hal clapped Bruce on the shoulder, knowing he was taking liberties that Bruce hadn’t exactly extended to him. It was something he’d done a thousand and one times for Oliver or Barry, and he’d come to learn that sometimes? Sometimes you had to take liberties with Bruce in order to get anywhere with the man. “It’s a damned good place to start, though. And I doubt either of them wouldn’t forgive you for whatever you shoved your foot into if you’d apologize.” 

“Ah, the great advice of renown Hal Jordan: just apologize,” Bruce quipped back. He didn’t look too upset or annoyed, so Hal figured he was going to come out of this one alive and well. Thankfully.

“Hey, I give great advice! I just never follow it, myself,” Hal protested. 

“You once told Oliver he should just ‘set it on fire,’” Bruce said. He sounded skeptical, which was a return to a Bruce that Hal was most familiar with. 

Hal couldn’t even remember when that would have happened, which meant, “I was probably wasted. I mean, bad advice when blown out of my mind, sure. But good advice other times. This time specifically. Apologize and tell them you love them; they’re your kids, they already know you’re an idiot.”

Bruce snorts a short bark of laughter. “Elegant, Jordan.” He looked over Hal’s shoulder again, presumably at said adults. “I’ll try.”

Hal gave his shoulder a good squeeze, which dragged Bruce’s eyes back to his. Bruce had very, very blue eyes. 

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Hal. “Hal? Everything all right?”

Hal realized suddenly that he was staring, again, and jerked his hand back. He fought to keep from blushing, but knew he was probably failing from the way Bruce was looking at him. Great job, Jordan, way to keep that stupid crush in line. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. It’s been a long couple of days.” 

“If you need to, you’re more than welcome to stay here tonight,” Bruce offered. He was looking at Hal like, well. Hal was sure he didn’t know what like and that made him plenty nervous. “We have plenty of space.” 

Hal didn’t doubt the offer or that Wayne Manor had plenty of room in it for one extra person, but he also knew that staying was probably a really, really bad idea on his part. “Yeah, I appreciate that, but I’m gonna have to pass. Thanks though, and thanks for the invite. You throw a mean shindig.”

Bruce gave him the laugh he was looking for, but Hal knew it was just kindness on his part. “That’s all Alfred, I just live here.” 

“Somehow I doubt that,” Hal said. He took a step back and gave Bruce a little wave. Just like the dork he really, really was. Lord have mercy, Jordan. “Catch ya on the flip side, Spooky.” 

Hal could feel the way Bruce was tracking him the entire way out of the ballroom.

|-|

If Hal had been tired before he’d left for Oa that time around, it had nothing to do with how he felt after he returned. Thankfully, he’d come back about twelve hours before the bi-weekly League meeting, which meant he had had the chance to both shower and sleep before hand. That wasn’t always the case and there was nothing worse than meetings when sleep deprived, especially when those meetings include Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman.

Granted, things would have been fine if Hal hadn’t kept spacing out. He didn’t miss much, but he knew he was spacing out to the sound of Batman’s voice. Batman obviously suspected something, if the way he kept looking at Hal was any indication. And the more times Batman looked, the easier it was for Barry to catch on. 

By the end of the meeting, Hal was ready to just go back to bed. It’d been _years_ since he’d been so far off of his game, and he was currently ashamed to know himself. He had to settle for leaning back in his chair with a hand over his face, listening as Clark called the meeting to an end. He could feel at least two sets of eyes on him, but he stayed where he was, channeling ‘leave me alone’ vibes as hard as he ever had. 

Either his luck was finally with him (doubtful in this case) or he missed some quiet negotiations (probable), because he heard most of the people in the room start to leave. He even had to chuckle as he heard Oliver arguing with Dinah and Diana and losing in that spectacular fashion that only Oliver ever really managed. 

“Lantern?” Batman asked. He was standing next to Hal, still wearing the cowl because of course he’d still be wearing the cowl. No one did paranoid like Batman did. And of course he was still Batman. The cowl was still up and he was never Bruce in the cowl. 

Dick had done the same thing, Hal remembered, during his brief stint as Batman. Hal might think it was ridiculous, and he was little prone to stirring up shit, but he was willing to respect Bruce’s boundaries on this one. Bruce had a lot more to lose if his identities were to go tits up. 

“Yeah, Spooky? What’s up?” Hal asked. The sooner he dealt with what was probably going to be a humiliating conversation, the sooner he could get out and get fantastically drunk. Because that was what this whole situation needed. What Hal needed. Fuck Oa. Fuck the Guardians and the Lanterns and everything else fucking wrong with the galaxy and fuck everyone that blamed Hal for it and or wanted him to fucking fix it. 

There was a deliberate pause. “Has something occurred with the Guardians that we need to be made aware of?” Batman finally asked. He said it in that obnoxious way of his, like everyone in the world was a Robin that he had the right to poke and prod until he knew everything that there was to know. No secrets from Batman. Because he was The Fucking Batman.

Hal stood up abruptly, knocking away the hand that Batman had placed onto his shoulder. “If there was something that the League needed to know, I would have brought it up in the meeting, Bats. Despite the repeat accusations, I do know how to do my job.” 

He pushed past Batman, making sure not to brush up against him when he did it. Not that he really had to worry because Batman actually backed away. Hal just ignored that, just like he ignored how quiet everyone else still in the room went. 

It didn’t matter anyway.

|-|

“Hal! Hal! Hal, seriously, will you just wait a second!” Barry called after Hal. Hal didn’t let it slow him down any.

Hal hadn’t actually made it very far from the meeting room before Barry came after him. It hadn’t even been long enough for Hal’s anger to fade into that sick realization and dread that always came after he lost his temper. He knew it was coming, looming like he’d once seen Batman do. 

That hadn’t been long after they’d met, and Hal had been in Gotham trying to track down a lead on a sex trafficking ring Kilowog had been looking into. 

There had been the inevitable alley fight with a gang of hoodlums, which they’d finished up fairly quickly. But before it had actually started, Hal had been crouching down on a fire escape, and he’d looked up when he had seen a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. It’d been Batman, standing out of his own crouch on a group of crates, entirely back lit by the alley’s lone light source. 

It’d freaked Hal out a little and he knew Batman was on his side. He’d almost felt sorry for the hoodlums, for a minute there. 

Hal’s brought out of his weird ass ride down memory lane by Barry, who’d superspeeded his way directly in front of Hal. Hal barely stopped before crashing into him. “What the fuck, Barry?”

And there was Hal Jordan, candidate for the Worst Friend of the Year award. Though it was pretty typical of him to turn his anger at himself around onto his friends. 

“Dude, that’s supposed to be my question,” Barry said. He put both hands on Hal’s shoulders, forcing Hal to look at him. He didn’t let go when Hal tried to jerk himself away. “Hal, the fuck happened to you?” 

Hal stopped. Barry wasn’t the guy who swore all that often. He wasn’t as bad as Clark for avoiding it, but Barry usually only brought out the swearing when shit was going one hundred percent and completely sideways. 

“Nothing happened, Bar. I just need to not be here right now.” Hal rubbed at the back of his head, definitely aware of just how awkward this was. Just how awkward he had made it. Especially given the number of people with super hearing nearby. 

Fuck. Hal was never going to live this down. 

“Uh huh,” Barry said. He couldn’t have sounded more skeptical if he tried. “All right, come on. We’re heading back to my place, getting drunk, and you are going to tell me exactly what crawled up your ass. And I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

He didn’t even give Hal the chance to throw up a token protest. He just linked his arm through Hal’s and turned them both in the direction of the zeta-tubes. 

“Look, I love you, Barry. You know that. But it’s a brotherly love.” Hal should have just kept his mouth shut, he knew that even as he opened his mouth and very stupid words fell out. But Hal was who he was and there was never going to be a time where he could just picture himself not giving Barry shit. Even if it was in his best interest to. _Especially_ when it was. “Look, what I’m trying to get at is I’m not interested in being your prom date.”

“For fuck’s sake, Hal,” Barry snapped. The look he leveled at Hal was the one that meant Barry was questioning Hal’s basic intelligence. Again. It was also the one that meant Hal was in for a world of trouble if he didn’t knock his shit off. “Shut up.” 

Hal finally managed to get a grip on himself, and did just that. He knew that if he kept it up, then Barry would hide all of the alcohol from him. It had happened before and it had been one of the more uncomfortable nights of Hal’s entire existence.

|-|

The great thing about Barry was that he was a man of his word. He’d would say that he was going to do a thing, and then he set off and actually got that thing accomplished. So when he said he was going to get them both drunk, that was exactly what he did.

Granted, he also made sure the both of them had a good size meal first, and he’d set out the water and painkillers for the morning after in the various locations that they were likely to pass out in, but Barry was also a planner. And this wasn’t the first time he’d had to do this with Hal. Hell, this wasn’t even the first time Barry had gotten Hal completely plastered _without_ Oliver. 

That was neither here nor there though. The fact remained that Barry had set out to get them both ridiculous amounts of drunk, and that was exactly what happened. 

Though Hal kind of thought that he was a lot more drunk than Barry was. Wouldn’t surprise him, what with the speed force mucking about with Barry’s physiology. But that was a depressing thought, so Hal had to take another shot. For Barry. Yep.

“All right, drunk Hal,” Barry said. He was sprawled out over his favorite arm chair and he was pointing at Hal, who was lounging across the entire couch. Where Hal was totally going to fall asleep. “Now’s the time where you talk.”

“Your couch is really comfy,” Hal told him. He thought Barry needed to know that. But… “You probably already knew that.” 

“I do, which is why it’s my couch,” Barry agreed. He definitely looked like he wanted to laugh at Hal, but see Barry? Barry was nice enough not to actually do it. “But you’re supposed to tell me what’s going on with you and Bruce.”

“Nothing is going on with me and Bruce,” Hal said. There wasn’t. Hal’s brain was just stupid sometimes. “My brain is just stupid sometimes.” 

“Well, I can’t argue with the second, though I call shenanigans on the first.” Barry gave him a pointed look. “You can spill now, or you can wait until I have the video camera out later.”

Hal just turned to glare at the ceiling. The ceiling wouldn’t care if Hal glared at it, and Hal needed to glare at something. “I’m just tired, Barry. It isn’t like I go on vacation when I’m not on Earth, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Barry said, tone as dry as sand. “Bad mission?” 

Hal shook his head. “No, same shit, different day, really.” 

Hal was eternally surprised at how alike people were, no matter their place of origin. Some people were kind, a lot were assholes (though those that were actively assholes were fewer than those who were just absentmindedly assholish), and everyone was pretty much just trying to get by. And absolutely none of that made Hal’s life any easier. 

Despite Barry being rather upfront about why he’d dragged Hal along with him, Hal still had no idea what was happening. He held his glass up in the air, watching as the fading afternoon light cut through the crystal and amber liquid inside. If he turned his head a certain way, the light formed interesting patterns on his arm. 

Hal watched the light shift for a few minutes before he decided that, once again, ‘fuck it’ was a very apt motto for himself. Well, that and ‘fuck Martin Jordan’. But the first really only applied here. 

Well, maybe not. 

“So I’m pretty sure I’ve never mentioned it but I’m pretty conclusively gay,” Hal said. He forced himself to sound as casual as he could, which probably wasn’t all that much. But, again, fuck it because Hal wanted credit for the attempt anyway.

There’s a pause, like Barry was waiting for Hal to continue, and then he snorted. “Yeah, no shit, Hal. How many times have I caught you making out with random guys?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be supportive?”

“Wouldn’t you run back to Oa as soon as I started thanking you for telling me?”

Hal paused. “Point.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “And what about women? You and Carol were just faking shit?”

“All right, I’m bi,” Hal glared. “Whatever.”

“Did you sleep with Bruce?” Barry asked. It wass the exact same tone of voice Barry always used with Hal, like it was the actual embodiment of his friendship with Hal, plus with all the added wariness of someone who’d been friends with Hal for awhile. Hal wasn’t sure why Barry even bothered putting up with his sorry ass, but Hal must be some kind of worth it for their friendship to have lasted as long as it had.

Barry wasn’t one to suffer fools, was what Hal meant. What Barry was though was the kind of asshole to just change topics on a person without any kind of warning. Hal was just glad he hadn’t been taking a sip of his drink. 

“No, Barry, I’m not sleeping with Bruce,” Hal sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face. He was definitely too tired for all of this and that last drink had probably been a bad idea. “I don’t know where the hell you got that idea…”

“How about we don’t?” Barry cut in. He said it quietly, in that mild mannered way of his, but there was enough steel under it to bring Hal up short. Hal looked at him and Barry’s gaze was too knowing and too unwilling to tolerate bullshit. Hal couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds. 

“Can we, for ten minutes maybe, remember that you’re Hal, yes, and that sometimes is synonymous with asshole, but also that I’m Barry and I’ve been your friend for a damned long time. I’m allowed to worry about you, man, especially when you come back from a mission looking as exhausted as you do and picking fights with Batman. Especially since he was obviously just trying to be kind. Which, okay, unusual enough when it comes to the two of you, but the last time you snapped like that when someone was just trying to be kind to you? Well, that was when you and Carol had broken it off the second time,” Barry said. 

“And you sure as hell don’t throw out any of what you think of as your darkest secrets just because, do you? No, you don’t. Hal is only ever honest about shit when he’s trying to deflect from other personal shit. And you don’t even do it consciously.” Barry hadn’t raised his voice once, or really even changed his tone. But it was still hitting Hal like a ton of bricks. “Do you have any idea just how exhausting it is to be your friend sometimes?”

And there it was. Hal felt his stomach bottom out as his anger gave way to self-loathing. Perfect fucking timing. Hal couldn’t even raise his eyes from the spot on the coffee table he’d been staring at as soon as he found he couldn’t hold Barry’s gaze. Hal was actually surprised he was still breathing, given the tight feeling in his chest and the vague numbness in his limbs. He certainly didn’t feel like he had the breathe to answer Barry. 

After a few minutes, Barry sighed. “Hal, I’m not angry. I want to help, but I need some kind of input from you.” 

Hal closed his eyes again, rolling his glass lightly over his forehead. All right, Jordan. It wasn’t like Barry was going to throw him off the balcony or drop him in a volcano or stop being his friend if he was actually honest with him. 

Fuck it. 

“Bruce and I haven’t slept together, and he’s probably as far from interested as you can get. But I’m not.”

“Not what?” Barry prodded. And that was one of the things Hal loved about Barry when it was applied to other people, but definitely less so when it was applied to him: Barry was like a dog with a bone. It made him a great detective and scientist, but was mildly annoying in a friend. 

“Uninterested.” Hal looked up to see Barry watching him. Barry looked…proud was probably the best way to put it. Fucking weird, but not exactly uncomfortable. 

Ugh. Emotional maturity was weird and uncomfortable and vaguely annoying.

“All right! Now we’re getting somewhere, aside from your butchering of the English language,” Barry said. He gave Hal a wicked grin and Hal groaned, dropping his head back onto the couch. “Now where’s the whiskey? I want all of the details, and then we’re coming up with a battle plan.” 

Hal groaned again. He was gonna pay for this the hard way, he knew it.

|-|

Hal woke up the next morning and was immediately aware of three things. One, Barry was the kind of asshole who didn’t have the decency of waking up hungover after a hard night of heavy drinking. Two, Oa’s sun may still be the most nauseating thing Hal had been forced to endure, but it had nothing on the Earth’s Sun’s ability to be a straight up, bright ass Bitch, and she was being next level awful right at that particular moment. Three, Hal felt like absolute shit, and that had very little to do with his actual hangover.

Hal laid on the couch, trying to tune out Barry’s cheerful whistling in the kitchen (such. an. _asshole_.), and pulled an extra throw over his face. It helped block out the sun well enough, but Hal only managed about a minute before he thought he might suffocate. Barry might be a relatively simple dude, but Hal was pretty sure even Bruce Wayne might say something about the hedonistic nature of Barry’s collection of pillows and blankets and various other soft things. 

Hal shoved the blanket off of himself and threw an arm over his eyes instead. It didn’t exactly help his headache, but it did block out most of the sunlight, so he counted it as a win. He wasn’t going to be able to shut Barry up or find any kind of cure for last night’s emotional whiplash, so Hal would take what wins he could.

Hal realized that he was a typical male stereotype when it came to expressing more emotion than, well, anger and sarcasm. Problem was that he really only saw the issue with that when he was around guys like Barry or Clark. Neither of them, from Hal’s experience, had ever subscribed to the whole ‘Manly Man’ esthetic that the vast majority of the western world was stuck on. There were even times when Hal wished he could get over his own issues (thanks, Martin and the US Air Force) and become someone more like the two of them. 

And then he’d wake up with a terrible hangover with Barry whistling in the kitchen and he remembered that the two of them were still massive assholes. They just hid it better than everyone else. 

Hal jumped when there was a crash in the kitchen, then the sound of Barry cursing softly to himself. Hal ignored the spike of pain that followed his completely ill advised movement, and sighed softly. Any minute now Barry was going to come into living room, loudly apologize for waking Hal up, and then try to force him to come up with some kind of plan of action for his stupid crush. 

And then Barry was going to put that plan into action, whether Hal or Bruce liked it or not. Hal knew that that could only end one way: disaster. 

Hal sighed again, dropping his arm so he could stare despondently at the ceiling. He’d admit that there was a chance, a very very very slim chance, that anything between him and Bruce could happen. And if it did, it wasn’t going to be a dates and flowers kind of thing. No, the truth was that the only future he and Bruce could ever have was a hot fuck or two, and, well. As much as that interested Hal (and it did. See sexual fantasies 37 to 289 for further details), Hal didn’t think he was going to be able to settle for just sex. And the fallout from that disaster would make working together very difficult, no matter how much either of them could compartmentalize. 

Hal laughed quietly to himself. Barry would never believe him, but Hal did have a sense of emotional maturity, he just didn’t use it very often. No, the best thing for all involved was to just nip it all in the bud now. Hal would just forget about the whole damned thing until his stupid brain found something else to fixate on.

|-|

In the end, all of Hal’s carefully worded platitudes to his own self ended up being mostly for nothing. He’d talked Barry out of saying anything, or making any kind of a plan, but it ended up being nearly three months before Hal even saw Bruce again, between Hal’s time off planet and Bruce being off doing…whatever it was Bruce did as Batman outside of the League.

And the more time Hal spent away from Bruce, the less he came up in Hal’s thoughts. Eventually, Hal even had to laugh at himself, at how quickly he’d started to obsess over the idea of him and Bruce together. It was exactly like it had been in high school for Hal - one little crush and trust Hal to blow it out of proportion. 

“You’re telling me that, what? That you overreacted?” Barry asked. He sounded very skeptical and disbelieving, which wasn’t exactly new. But usually there was more fire involved. 

They were at Oliver’s pre-birthday bash, the little get together that Oliver always did with his actual friends before the series of events he always put on for charity and whatever causes he was taking up at the moment. 

The current moment saw the two of them sitting at the bar waiting for the bartender to come over and take their drink orders. Oliver hadn’t choose the quietest bar to have his party at, not that he ever did. 

“You, Hal Jordan, are admitting that you’d made a mistake. Of your own volition.”

Hal rolled his eyes at Barry’s tone. “Yes, I’m admitting I made a mistake. It’s not the first time I’ve done that, you know.”

“First time without explosions or torture,” Barry countered. He was outright glaring now. 

“You’d think you’d be a little happier about this,” Hal said, refusing to acknowledge that comment. That way led straight to danger. Thankfully, the bartender finally managed to make his break from the gaggle of twenty-somethings and their ridiculous looking drinks. Hal put in both of their orders and paid while studiously ignoring the way Barry hadn’t stopped glaring yet. 

“Hal, the fuck are you doing?” Barry demanded as soon as the bartender leaves again. He reached out and poked Hal in the shoulder. Hard. He ignored Hal’s hiss of pain and returning glare. “Seriously. What. The. Fuck.” Four more jabs and Hal was starting to lose feeling in his hand.

“That’s what I should be asking you,” Hal grumbled. He rubbed at the spot that Barry had poked carefully. Trust Barry to zero in on still healing bruises. “That actually hurt.” 

“You’re getting soft, Jordan,” Bruce’s voice came from behind them. It was quiet and calm, but with an underlying thread of amusement. Hal put the jolt of sensation that shot along his spine down as Bruce’s startling him, and absolutely nothing else. “Spending too much time flying around and not enough of it training if that managed to hurt you.” 

“Oh, thanks, Spooky. Really appreciate the concern,” Hal said. He couldn’t stop himself from giving Bruce an once over, eyes lingering briefly on the way Bruce’s jeans stretched across his thighs. Hal actually couldn’t recall if he had ever actually seen Bruce in jeans before, even during informal gatherings like this; he, however, could admit that Bruce knew how to wear them. 

Barry was watching Hal pointedly when Hal dragged his eyes away from Bruce. Hal just grunted and rolled his eyes again, turning back to the bar in time to grab his drink from the bartender. He turned back around again, intent on getting the hell away from both Barry and Bruce before the night got any more off course, to find Bruce just watching him. Not glaring or suspicious or annoyed or any of the other thousand and one ways Bruce had ever looked at him. 

No, this was more….considering. And not in Bruce’s normal ‘sizing up the enemy’ kind of way. More like…

Like Hal had just done himself. Well, fuck. 

Something must have shown on his face or in his body language because one second Bruce was definitely checking him out (with Batman levels of subtle) and the next Bruce was squaring himself off, and something like a shutter came down between them. The feeling of being caught square in the center of a dead fall started to swoop through Hal’s middle.

(Hal will have nightmares about this. Nightmares where he actually had the balls to tell his idiot self to shut the fuck up and admit to Bruce that he’s definitely interested. But instead of just watching Bruce pack away his interest in that mask swapping way of his, an actual shutter slammed shut, trapping Hal away from everyone in the bar, no matter how hard he banged or loud he tried to be.

Hal couldn’t even manage to be subtle in his own dreams.)

“I actually came over to thank you, Jordan,” Bruce said after clearing his throat. Hal, still a little shocked by what he believed he just witnessed, just blinked at him. Hal was still one hundred percent just as awkward as he had been in high school. “I took your advice and it worked surprisingly well.” 

Hal blinked again before it finally clinked as to what Bruce was talking about. Dick’s party and Hal telling him to just apologize already. And there it was - goodbye to gravity and hello to his stomach bottoming out and the ever familiar numbness starting in his limbs. Hal’s brain finally kicked in and cottoned on to the fact that apparently he’d had a chance with Bruce fucking Wayne, the goddamned _Batman_, and in typical Hal fashion, he’d fucked it right up. And Hal knew that the likelihood of Bruce ever opening up to him again, even the slightest bit, were slim to none. Hal had a better chance of being made a Guardian than ever again having a chance with Bruce now.

Hal wouldn’t ever remember what he said to get out of that conversation (Barry refused to divulge that information), but the next thing Hal knew he was across the room laughing with Oliver and Arthur. He was doing his best to ignore how he could see Bruce across the room, making his goodbyes to Dinah and Clark before walking out the door. 

Hal was pretty sure he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He took comfort in knowing that he was probably doing a better job of that than he was of hiding his crush on Bruce from himself.

|-|

To say things were a little awkward between them from there on out was definitely something of an understatement. Hal, having little out of body experiences each time it happened, gracelessly and obviously did everything in his power to spend as little time with Bruce as possible over the next few months. He was so clumsy about it that at one point _Clark_ pulled him aside after a meeting (where Hal had told Bruce that he wasn’t available for training because he needed to wash his hair. Lord have mercy and Jesus wept, Jordan. Hal was ashamed to know himself).

And Clark being Clark, he was super sweet about the whole thing, which made Hal feel even more like the asshole Barry was routinely calling him now. Along with ever helpful “Coward.” 

“Hal, is everything all right? Do you need help? Did Bruce do something? Do I need to step in?” Clark asked. He was being one hundred percent sincere, complete with puppy dog eyes and everything. Especially considering this was Clark’s best friend he was offering to talk to for Hal. 

Hal knew he was an asshole, he always had been, it was basically in his genes. But this moment? Hal had never wanted to throw himself into a black hole or supernova more, that was how badly he disgusted himself. He mustered up a smile for Clark; it wasn’t a very good one. “No, nothing happened. Too much on my mind and I’m being an asshole. Bruce is fine; I’m fine.”

Clark frowned at him. It was kind of obvious that he didn’t believe Hal, but also that he wasn’t sure he could push Hal on that point. Part of Hal wanted Clark push, but that was actually the cowardly part of Hal; the selfish part. If anyone was going to be able to fix this (if it could even be fixed), it was going to have to be Hal. “If you’re sure.” 

“I am,” Hal assured him. Clark still didn’t look convinced, and Hal knew he had to give him something or this would become even more of a thing, and Bruce didn’t deserve any of that. “Look, to be honest I’m dealing with some shit with the Guardians and the Corps and I’ve been taking it out on Bruce. I’m an asshole and I’ll apologize.” 

That even had the benefit of not being a lie. Granted, Hal was always dealing with some shit with the Guardians and the Corps, and he wasn’t saying when exactly he was going to apologize. Hal figured he would eventually stop feeling that sickening lurch around Bruce, and he’d be able to get the words out and actually mean them. 

Clark frowned, but nodded. “All right. Let me know if that changes. I shouldn’t be surprised; the two of you have always gotten under each other’s skin.” 

Hal had laughed that off before making his escape. But the words ran a loop around and around Hal’s head as he laid awake in bed later that night. Hal could strategize with the best of them, he knew that from experience, but he couldn’t see his way out of this one. 

Well, other than to just stop being an asshole. 

Hal ran his hands over his face. He didn’t exactly like the idea, but as the saying went, he’d made his bed and he’d have to sleep in it.

|-|

It took another few months, and a lot of time yelling at himself internally, but things started to get better. Barry was still actively disappointed in him - Hal knew because Barry was not shy about telling Hal that - but once Barry saw that Hal was actually trying to not be an asshole around Bruce, he started to help Hal out.

“I mean, you’re a fucking idiot and a coward, Hal, but you’re my friend. I don’t have to like the shit you’re putting yourself through to be able to support you. And anything that gets you to stop being such an asshole is a win, isn’t it?”

Hal had figured that was fair, but still. “Appreciate your love and support, Barry. I really do.”

Barry had just clapped Hal on the shoulder and laughed at him. 

Bruce was still distant, but eventually it was the distance that Hal and he had had before. Hal was comfortable with that. He still had his crush on Bruce, but again, who didn’t? Whenever it started getting the best of him, whenever Hal started actively daydreaming in meetings about the things Bruce could do to him or the things he could do for Bruce, Hal went out and got himself laid. Usually with women, because women were hot and fun and Hal might have a crush on Batman the size of the Watchtower and Wayne Manor combined, but that didn’t negate how much Hal enjoyed a good roll with a hot lady or two. 

But, occasionally, Hal would seek out men, men who had Bruce’s build or Bruce’s self-assurance or something about them that just screamed Bruce to Hal. That would settle Hal for a few days or a week, until he saw Bruce again. Which would remind Hal of why he’d done it in the first place. 

So Hal didn’t do that very often. For reasons of his sanity.

|-|

“All right, there’s just one more item and then we’re actually finished today,” Clark said. He was smiling a little self-mockingly, which Hal figured was fair. This meeting had been going on for hours at this point, at least three hours longer than normal, and Hal still had to finish getting his shit together for his next scheduled trip to Oa.

(It was possible that Hal had been putting off doing everything he need to do for this particular trip until the last minute. He had a strong inkling that this particular mission was the Corps’ equivalent of an employee evaluation, and the last two he’d been through had almost killed him. 

Literally, which was unfortunate, but not actually surprising.)

“Out with it, Kent, I’m supposed to be taking a beautiful woman to dinner tonight,” Oliver said. He was joking, Hal knew, but he definitely sounded grumpy. Like, actually grumpy, and not Oliver’s normal playacting. Hal knew Green Arrow had been dealing with an increased amount of trouble in the previous couple of months, but details were sparse on the ground. This sounded like Arrow didn’t exactly have things under control.

Hal glanced at Barry, who just shrugged tiredly. Oliver was keeping things close to the vest on this one. If he hadn’t confided in Barry yet, then it was probably not anything they were going to hear about until it blew a hole in Star City. 

Wonderful.

“Thank you for volunteering, Ollie,” Clark said. He flashed his patented shit don’t stink grin when Oliver glared at him. “We, meaning the League, have been issued an invitation to meet with the Zora from the planet Rorzea. And we need two people to liaise.”

Hal frowned. He knew that name, but he couldn’t quite place it. He pulled his tablet closer and actually scanned through the information they’d been given. The Zora were from a smaller planet on the outskirts of 2815 and they’d just concluded a century old war with the Ancuin from Yulge, also 2815. Familiar, but still no dice.

“Weren’t the Zora the ones who tired to blow Hal up?” Barry asked. He grinned at Hal, and Hal just rolled his eyes in response.

“We don’t have time to go through the number of people who’ve tried to blow Hal up,” Bruce said. He didn’t even bother to look up from his own tablet, though Hal doubted he was rereading the meeting brief. Probably planning out his next hack of some poor country’s intelligence network.

“Not all of them were space pirates, though,” Barry countered. “Didn’t you compare them to Pandora raiders, Hal?”

Hal groaned. Now he remembered. “No, those were the Ancuin. Stinky fuckers, I remember that clear enough.” 

“Language,” Clark said absently. 

Hal just waved his hand at him. That had been an absolute shit of a mission. He shouldn’t have even been there, but the Corps had been worried that if the two races hadn’t started settling their differences, then the conflict was going to spread out into other sectors. Namely 2814, which was why they had tapped newly ringed Hal to help draw up the peace treaties. 

It didn’t surprise Hal one bit that it’d taken them five years to finalize those stupid treaties. It did surprise him that they’d come to the League. The Zora weren’t the most technologically advanced species Hal had met, but they were still pretty far out in front of Earth. Kind of suspicious, if you asked Hal, which no one would. 

“Then Hal is the better choice for this,” Oliver argued. “They already know him.” 

“Yeah, and they really don’t like me,” Hal said. He didn’t know why Oliver was arguing against this so much. He loved doing the whole diplomatic thing and he was suspiciously good at it. “Probably a very bad idea.” 

“Also, the meeting has to happen in the next three weeks, and Jordan is already scheduled off world for Lantern business,” Bruce added. He still hadn’t looked up from his tablet, but he was frowning now. It was even more disconcerting to see the Batman frown without the cowl being pulled up. “I’ll be able to join Arrow for this, if that’s all we needed?”

Clark looked a little surprised, but hid it quickly. “Yes, that’s all.” 

Bruce nodded and stood, tucking away his tablet and pulling the cowl back up. “I’ll be in contact with our travel arrangements, Arrow,” he said, and then he was dramatically sweeping out of the room, cape swirling around him. 

There was a general pause, which was only broken by Oliver cursing. “Overdramatic, fucker.” 

Clark stared after Bruce for a moment before turning to the rest of them. “Meeting adjourned then.”

|-|

Two and a half weeks later, and Hal was glaring at Oliver, who was laid up in a hospital bed with a broken leg and a handful of broken ribs. And he knew it was rich for him to be the one to say it, but. “You are a moron, Ollie.”

“Hey, be nice to the broken guy,” Oliver protested. He sounded loopy, which meant Dinah had won the argument about the good drugs. Not that the idiot deserved them. “I’m not mean to you when you’re injured.” 

“Yes, you are. You’re an absolute ass about it,” Barry said, arms crossed over his chest. He was leaning against the wall and glaring at Oliver as well. Fair enough, given that Barry had been the first one able to answer Oliver’s emergency hail. “And people who can’t be bothered to ask for help when facing down _three_ cartels don’t get to complain.” 

Oliver had the grace to wince at that. “Yeah, sorry about that. I am, really.” 

“Because it blew up in your face or because you know better?” Hal asked. He didn’t bother waiting for a response because they all knew the answer to that question and Hal could, occasionally, be a consciously good friend. “Spooky is going to murder you, though, you get that, right? You’re supposed to be leaving in _two_ days.” 

Oliver winced again, looking down at his cast. “Yeah, not exactly a conversation I’m looking forward to.” 

Barry laughed. “Actually, this could be a good thing.” He shifted, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, and gave Hal a shit eating grin. Hal felt his stomach start to churn; it was never a good sign when Barry did any of that. “You know that Hal’s off world mission got canceled, right, Ollie?”

Oliver slow blinked, and then started grinning at Hal. “Oh, is that so.” 

Hal frowned. “No. Whatever the hell is going through your twisted brains, no.” 

“Look, you said it yourself, I can’t go on the mission now,” Oliver said, gesturing down at his bruised and broken body. “And you’re the one who made first contact with them. You’re the better choice, anyway.” 

“Have you both forgotten that they tried to kill me the last time I was there?” Hal pointed out. Everything in him was screaming that this was a trap, but he shoved that thought to the side. If either of them smelled blood, then he was doomed.

(He was already doomed. Hal knew that, they knew that, but he wasn’t going to just roll over and accept that. One, it was expected that he’d put up even just a token fight and, two, if he just started listening to them, they’d never stop. Look, Hal loved them both, they were his chosen brothers, but sometimes a man just need to be able to make stupid choices for himself. Not exactly the best coping mechanism, but it was what Hal had.)

“Hal, everyone wants to try to kill you. _I_ have wanted to many times,” Barry said. Which, hurtful. Honest, and Hal could see a little glimmer of truth in it, but still. Hurtful. “The trick to getting over it is forced exposure.”

“That seems wrong, but you do you,” Hal said. He glanced at the door, instinctively, and knew instantly that it was the wrong move. 

“Suck it up, buddy,” Barry said. He was waving his cell phone in Hal’s general direction. “I’ve already told Bruce you’re taking over for Ollie. Time to pack some clean undies.” 

Hal glared. “You’ll pay for that, Allen.” He pushed himself away from the wall and started for the door. Sometimes retreat was the only option left to a man.

“I call dibs on being your best man,” Oliver called after him. 

He and Barry were still laughing as Hal closed the door behind him. “Well, that could have gone better,” he muttered to himself as he ducked his head and bee-lined for the exit.

|-|

There had been a text from Bruce before Hal had even made it back out onto the street. It just said, “Come to the cave for a mission brief.”

Short and sweet, which was just typical of Bruce. And it was exactly the opposite of what Hal wanted to do. Hal stood there in the middle of the parking garage where he had pretended to have parked a car and just stared at his phone. He really, really didn’t want to go. It was a selfish and cowardly thing, and he knew it, but he just. 

He’d fucked up, with Bruce, a lot. It was one hundred percent his fault, and he knew it, but just being on the Tower with Bruce in the general vicinity hurt. Like an actual physical pain in Hal’s chest and stomach, and Hal didn’t see a way out of that. The uneasy coworker relationship they’d fallen back into wasn’t the best thing ever, but Hal could handle it as long as there was distance. 

This. This was going to be the exact opposite of distance. These missions usually ran for about a week, and they really wouldn’t have contact with anyone in the League, not out in sector 2815. There would be close proximity and utter reliance on one another. And they could do it. Fuck, the two of them were actually brilliant at it, working together like that. They always had been.

It just couldn’t, wouldn’t end the way Hal still couldn’t stop daydreaming about. It didn’t matter that Hal sounded exactly like an over emotional teenager, not when this was Hal’s current truth. Getting over Carol had been brutal, one of the hardest things Hal had ever been through, but it was like comparing apples to oranges, like a candle next to a star, how deep Hal had fallen into this with Bruce. 

“Well, Jordan, you made the bed, you stupid blind fuck,” Hal muttered. He texted Bruce back, letting him know that he was on his way. “Now it’s time to climb on in.”

|-|

Hal cloaked himself as much as he was able as he approached the hidden BatCave entrance. He didn’t bother trying to fool himself into believing that Bruce wouldn’t pick up on him, but there was Batman’s paranoia about his family, and then there was the rest of the human race. He’d bet on Batman any day of the week.

All of the inner Justice League members had access codes to the Cave. It had seemed like such a bizarre thing when Hal had been given his, because why the hell would a Green Lantern be needed at the BatCave? Hal had even laughed to himself, thinking it was such an overwrought and unnecessary bit of paranoia and craziness. 

Now, though, having actually learned about Bruce’s family, from his parents on down to all of the kids, and working alongside Batman, Hal knew better. He was a little ashamed of himself, at his stupidly blind pigheadedness, but he’d like to think he’s grown from that place. At least in this particular case. 

It was a matter of minutes between landing at the cave entrance and Hal strolling into the cave proper. It seemed a lifetime for Hal, which he recognized was a weird anxiety reaction. He rubbed his forehead, trying to mental put everything back into a box, any box, but as he’d spent the entire flight from Star City to Gotham trying to do just that, he didn’t really have much faith in his ability to do so now. 

“Lantern,” Bruce greeted him as he came into view. And it was Bruce, looking out of place in slacks and a sweater that definitely cost more than Hal’s entire net worth, not Batman, for all that he was seated at the large main computer. Hal wasn’t sure how to peruse that, honestly. “How badly did Arrow injure himself this time?”

“Broken leg and a few ribs. Lots of bruises and scrapes,” Hal said, just floating himself over to Bruce. Navigating the inner workings of the cave, with its layers and weird shifting lighting, was not something Hal felt up to at that moment. He landed near Bruce, and settled himself against one of the weird computer consoles. At least he thought it was one. He’d seen Dick leaning in the same spot before, so he figured it was safe enough. “He’ll be fine until Dinah decides he’s healed enough to kick his ass for this stunt.” 

Bruce snorted, a small smile curving his lips. Hal didn’t think he’d have noticed the change if he hadn’t been looking at Bruce’s profile, because the guy still hadn’t looked up from whatever he was doing. “I imagine that to be so.” 

Hal shook his head, but didn’t comment again. He did let his uniform drop because he was tired and if Bruce wasn’t suited up it felt weird for him to be. He was just glad he’d been wearing jeans and a t-shirt and not his flight suit when he’d gone to help Oliver. “What’s shaking, Spooky?”

“Oddities in drug sales between Gotham, Bludhaven, and New York,” Bruce answered. He clicked the mouse a few times, and the main screen lit up with a giant overlay map of the region of the three cities. There were many lines, in three different colors, spiraling between and around all three cities. “Rival gangs flooding the market with off-brand merchandise. Hood and Nightwing have been working on what they thought were conflicting cases, but.” 

Here he stopped and pointed at a pair of lines, that when Hal looked closer, actually show that there were only two colors on the map. The other color was actually a blending of the first two together. “Thankfully there haven’t been any deaths, yet, that we’ve been able to find.”

Hal looked over the map again. “Those lines make absolutely no sense. Are they selling themselves _and_ to each other? And not to anyone else?” 

“That’s what this map suggests, yes,” Bruce agreed. He zoomed the map in, showing what may be at least one starting point. “Arkham seems to be one of the central locations for the trade, if not the development of the drugs in question.” 

“Well, that’s fucked,” Hal said. He didn’t really have anything else for it. Then again, he was an outsider in Gotham, and everything bad in the city seemed to have one foot in Arkham to him anyway. “There anything I can do to help?” 

Bruce shook his head and closed out of his open windows. “We've nothing for the ring to analyze and it’s too early in the investigation for anything else. But thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Hal answered on automatic. He was a little thrown by Bruce actually thanking him. That wasn’t a usual part of their script. “So, you have a mission brief for me?”

Bruce looked over at him for a second before looking back at the computer. Hal knew that he hadn’t fooled Bruce at all, but that was the nice thing about Bruce. Unless someone was actively dying or threatening his ever growing brood, Bruce would let things lie. Hal couldn’t tell if that was Bruce being a decent human being or if it was just Bruce not wanting to deal with other people’s bullshit. A little of this, a little of that, probably.

“What do you know about the Zora and Ancuin?” Bruce asked.

Hal blinked. “Two warring planets just over the 2814/2815 borderline. The Zora had tried to colonize Yulge, found the Ancuin, got their asses kicked off Yulge. The Ancuin didn’t leave well enough alone, chased the Zora back to Rorzea, kicked off a century of war. About five years ago, the Corps were called in to help negotiate a treaty between the two planets. I was oh so lucky to be included. Certain factions on both sides tried to stop the peace talks, I almost got blown up. Again.” 

“Remembered then?” Bruce asked. He was definitely smiling now. 

“Went back through my mission reports,” Hal admitted. He didn’t want to verbalize it just yet, but he had his suspicions about this whole thing. Something just felt hinky about the whole thing. 

“Well, that lines up what we’ve been sent by the Zora,” Bruce said. “Not the part about you almost dying, but I took that as read.”

“Ha ha,” Hal deadpanned. Everyone was a comedian now. Ugh.

“As part of their treaty, the Ancuin are supplying our transport to and from Rorzea,” Bruce continued. “We leave in two days from the Tower and the whole mission, transport included, is scheduled to take less than nine days to complete.” 

“Wait, we’re not going in the Javelin?” Hal asked. That hinky feeling rose to a mild alarm in the back of his mind. “That’s…interesting.”

“There a problem, Jordan?” Bruce looked over at him. Hal didn’t know what to think of his expression.

Hal pursed his lips and stared at a point on the far wall for a moment. “Not exactly, no. Just. It’s just a feeling. Something doesn’t feel right about all of this.”

Bruce watched him for a moment. “Anything concrete to base this feeling on?” 

Hal knew it was a fair question. Fair and logical, it just didn’t feel that way. He did his best to keep the bite out of his voice when he answered. “No. Just conjuncture and the memory of Ancuin tech being absolute shit. Most of what I’d seen of their ships? Absolute junkers.” 

“We’ll have to keep that in mind, then,” Bruce said. “Refusing their offer at this point would not be helpful, not without anything to substantiate it. And you realize that you may be exaggerating this, due to your previous experiences.” 

Hal frowned, but didn’t really have any way to argue. They’d all done worse with less and survived, so there was that at least. “Right. Awesome. Love starting out on the back foot. When are we meeting up exactly?”

“Ten am, Tuesday, main hanger.” Bruce raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. 

Hal sighed and rubbed at his forehead. He really, really doesn’t have a good feeling about this. But what the fuck were they supposed to do? Turn this opportunity down, insult the Zora, and cause a massive interplanetary incident? From what he remembers about Zoran tech, Earth really couldn’t hold their own against them. 

“Right, sure. I guess I’ll see you in two days, Spooky,” Hal said. He gave Bruce a flippant wave as he floated his way back to the way he’d come into the cave. Bruce didn’t say anything back, and was click-clacking his way across the keyboards before Hal made it to the door.

|-|

Tuesday morning dawned bright and cheerful, which immediately put Hal on edge. What most people thought of as good omens Hal knew, from vast personal experience, to be bad signs. Like the worst. Harbingers of death and doom.

“Have you started day drinking?” Barry asked when Hal expressed this to him over the phone. Barry had called, one, because he always did before Hal went off on one of these excursions and, two, because Oliver had been released the night before. Dinah had already started her campaign of terrorizing Oliver in retaliation for his stupidity. “Because that is about the worst thing you could do; you know how Bruce is about these delegations.”

“No, I’m not Ollie, Barry,” Hal sighed. He was throwing the last his shit together into the duffle he always took with him. He could wear the Lantern uniform the whole time if he needed to (that was basically what he did when he was on Oa), but it didn’t exactly set the friendliest tone to other, non-Lantern people. Plus, seeing him in his civvies helped emphasize that while Hal was a Green Lantern, Hal wasn’t there _as_ a Green Lantern. 

“The last time I dealt with these people?” Hal continued. “It started out sunny and gorgeous, just like today. It’s bad vibes, I’m telling you.”

“Since when are you superstitious?” 

“Barry, I”m a pilot; I’ve always been superstitious,” Hal said. “Honestly, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

He finally had everything packed and he set his duffle by the door before going to make a final run through the apartment. It was better for all involved if all the extension cords were turned off and that his fridge didn’t have any perishables in it. He’d come back one too many times to find new, nearly sentient creatures living in the fridge. It may have taken him a while (ten years, give or take), but Hal had learned to get rid of all of that a head of time.

“I’ve often wondered that myself,” Barry said dryly. “Usually after one of your dumber practical jokes. Remember that one with the blue pasta and Diana’s lasso?”

“Why do you think I’m not dead,” Hal said, choosing to ignore Barry’s comment. He’d blocked the blue pasta out of his memories for a reason. 

The fridge was clear and everything was off. Hal grabbed his duffle as he also ignored Barry laughing at him. It took him another minute to finish locking up, and then he was out the door. He’d take off from the roof and look at that. He was actually on time. 

Things were definitely going to blow up. Probably directly in his face. 

“Honestly? Sheer dumb luck,” Barry said, still chuckling. “Your mouth causes more issues than Ollie and Shazam combined.” 

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious, Bar,” Hal said. That was patently untrue. Ollie was definitely more trouble than he was and Barry knew it. As he rounded the corner for the last set of stairs, he nodded at Miss Miriam, who lived in 5c and definitely hadn’t been born a Miss anything. She damn well knew how to bake though, and Hal was always polite to her. Her winter holiday cookie baskets weren’t to be messed with. 

She gave him the same smile and once over she always had before heading into her apartment. There was a time when Hal might have taken her up on the blatant offer - she was 70 if she was a day, but she was still smokin’ - but again. Cookie baskets.

“Look, we have your itinerary, and you’re going with Batman. The man is no slouch at getting out of a tough spot,” Barry said. “Between that and your dumb luck, you should be fine.”

“Aww, you’ll come to the rescue if there’s explosions?” 

“If I can do it for Ollie, man, you’re a piece of cake.” 

“Ha! I knew you didn’t think I was worse than Ollie!”

Barry sighed. “Hal, would you relax already? It’ll be fine. Besides, Dinah wants our help with her return of the revenge on Ollie, so you have to come back.”

“Right, right,” Hal pushed open the roof access and let the door slam shut behind him. A quick glance around showed that he was alone. That was always a small worry. The college aged hooligans down in 3b liked to smoke up out here because the landlord didn’t like climbing all of the stairs. Which is why Hal had a key to the roof and did most of the minor maintenance for the top three floors of the building. That and that kept the landlord off of his ass if he was a week or three behind on rent. “Look, I’m gonna take off now.”

Barry laughed. “All right, all right. Have fun! And Hal?”

“Yes, Barry?” 

“This is the perfect time for you to grow a set of balls.” With that, Barry hung up, leaving Hal staring up at the white fluffy clouds floating lazily through the sky. 

Yep. Everything was awful and he was probably going to be exploded. Again.

|-|

The Ancuin ship, when it finally docked outside the Tower’s main hanger, was just as shitty as Hal remembered all of their tech to be. It looked like something someone had cobbled together in a scrapyard with too much time on their hands, not enough skill, and a lot of obsession over Firefly. What it didn’t look like was something safe to stand in, much less cross through space in.

“Now tell me I’m exaggerating,” Hal demanded of Batman once they had gotten through the initial greetings and were waiting for the shuttle to ferry them to the Lrova. “If you don’t recognize a death trap in its purest form, we need to get your eyes checked. And maybe replace you with a younger model.”

Batman snorted. “You’ve made your point, Lantern. And what makes you think any of the boys would look at that as anything but ‘challenge accepted?’”

“Is that the sound of you admitting that I was right that I hear, Spooky?” Hal teased. It was easier to joke around with Bruce when he was in the Batsuit, even if it was one of the newer ones that had less of the molded muscle armor and more of Bruce’s actual muscle mass bleeding though. It helped create a line between Bruce and Batman, and Hal knew that was what Bruce had intended, but that was to keep Bruce’s family safe. Not to make it easier for Hal to willingly blind himself. Still, Hal would take anything at this point.

Batman just walked away. 

Hal knew that was as much of an admission as he was going to get from a Bruce in Batman mode. He took a moment to internally gloat, and then he walked over to where Diana and Clark were going over the itinerary for their return with Batman. Hal couldn’t help but feel that that was Batman actually taking Hal’s gut feeling into account, but he knew it was probably more about Batman being stupidly anal about shit.

“We understand, Batman. If we do not hear from you by next Wednesday, we will head out in the Javelin to rendezvous with the Lrova,” Diana said. She shared a knowing look with Clark. “We will not allow you to linger with those fiends any longer than that.”

Hal didn’t bother to hide his smile. Diana picking on Batman was always hilarious. Still. “Actually, Princess, I’m the one who’s worried. Spooky is actually being the optimistic one here.”

“Is the universe ending?” Clark asked dryly, before clapping Batman on the shoulder. “Relax, you two. Honestly, it’s as if neither of you have done this a thousand times before.”

“The Zora and the Ancuin have already tried to kill Lantern before,” Batman said. Hal could see just the edge of a smirk on his lips. “That kind of rage does not dissipate quickly.”

“Aw, Spooky, I feel the love,” Hal said. He smirked when Batman turned to glare at him. “Ride’s here so say goodbye to Mom and Dad.”

“I thought Batman was the Dad,” Diana said.

“Nah, he’s the weird eccentric uncle that shows up randomly with gifts that are not age appropriate for the children.”

“Explains so much,” Clark said. He reached out and hit the button that opened the bay doors. “All right, we’ll see you two next Wednesday.”

“Be safe and strong,” Diana said. 

They made the rest of their goodbyes as the shuttle settled down in the hanger. Hal was pretty sure that his first car had been better maintained, and he’d held that thing together with chicken wire, duct tape, and willpower.

“Ready, Lantern?” Batman asked quietly as the shuttle’s doors opened to reveal their escort. The Ancuin were a tallish humanoid people, with thick dread-like hair, purple-green skin, and a veritable mountain of culturally important tattoos. Thankfully, all of the pirate-like tattoos Hal remembered from the attacks weren’t visible. 

“When have we ever let that stop us?” Hal replied as they walked over to their escort. 

This was one hundred percent going to end horribly.

|-|

Hal should have cottoned on to the fact that the crew of the Lrova for their return trip were not the same as the previous trip, even if the captain was. They mostly all looked the same (the Ancuin didn’t come with much variation in Hal’s experience, hence all the body art), but the different tattoos? Those should have been a dead giveaway.

And then there was how both he and Batman had near immediately passed out after ‘light refreshments’ had been served. Hal hadn’t even been able to get a shield up between when he started feeling the numbness spreading throughout his body and when he’d lost consciousness. 

Hal was going to kick his own ass quite firmly once they finally got out of this.

It had been such a good week, too. Negotiations had been completed, celebratory banquet survived, and he and Bruce had actually been getting along. Hal couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had spent a significant amount of time together - outside of a battlefield - where they hadn’t ended up picking at each other. Or Hal saying something stupid and running away.

Which Hal was very aware was his own damned fault, but it wasn’t like Bruce hadn’t shied away himself.

And then they’d started for home. Bruce had been quieter all day, but Hal had attributed that to all of the fancy alien whiskey Bruce had downed the night before. Hal himself was as tired as he normally was after a long mission, so he really hadn’t looked any deeper into Bruce’s behavior. Or into the behavior of the crew that was ferrying them back to Earth. 

In Hal’s defense, Bruce also hadn’t cottoned on to what the crew was doing. 

Which, inevitably,lead to the two of them floating in space, alone in a very small space pod. As far as Hal had been able to calculate, they were stuck halfway between any where that would be helpful for them. It wasn’t a comfortable space to be stuck in with another person, especially considering that they were both solidly muscled men standing at over six feet each. 

It was a tight fit basically.

“Jordan, stop squirming,” Batman snapped after Hal shifted again, trying in vane to find a spot that didn’t have him pressed all up in Batman’s space. Batman grabbed Hal’s hips and tugged him back between Batman’s legs until Hal was firmly on both the seat and against, well, all of Batman. “There isn’t enough space in here for your absurd heterosexual male panic.” 

Hal stiffened and twisted his upper body enough so that he could glare at Batman’s ridiculously cowled face. “‘Absurd heterosexual male panic’? The fuck does that mean?”

Batman rolled his eyes (Hal had learned years ago what facial expressions Batman was using behind the cowl. It was all telegraphed through his jawline). “For someone of your intelligence, you have a hard time understanding simple words. It means exactly what it says on the cover. Yes, we are trapped here, and, yes, there isn’t enough space. No, I am not going to ravage you, and nothing about this situation makes you homosexual. 

“However, if you do not stop squirming, I will knock you out for the remainder of our journey, so help me,” Batman growled. The lenses on the cowl opened and Bruce was glaring out at Hal. 

“The only time I have ever heard you compliment my intelligence, and you have make it an insult,” Hal snapped back. He wanted to. Well, he wanted to be just about anywhere other than right where he was, but since he couldn’t have that, he really wanted to have just not reacted to Bruce’s comment. He knew Barry was right in that when dealing with Bruce, it was better to just not listen to the actual words he was using, but rather what was behind them. Hal knew it, but it was damned difficult to do sometimes. 

“Fuck it, never mind,” he gritted out, closing his eyes and turning back around. He couldn’t quite relax back into Bruce - for many more reasons than he actually wanted to explore right at that moment - but he did settle himself where Bruce had placed him. If he could survive all of the battles that he had, then he could very well survive however long it took them to get within hailing distance of help. He might not have a tongue left by the time they got out of here, but neither of them would be dead. 

“Jordan…” Bruce started, but stopped with a sigh. His breath ghosted across the back of Hal’s neck and Bruce still had his hands on Hal’s hips, and his grip flexed in time with his breathing. It was another thing that was going to force Hal to keep biting his tongue and make it impossible for him to relax. 

Because, let’s face it. This was the perfect situation for a good spank session: trapped in seclusion, forced intimacy with one of the hottest men in the galaxy, someone that tapped every button that Hal had, even if he’d spent most of their combined careers driving Hal insane. What it wasn’t, was a real life event that Hal ever wanted to be trapped in. 

Especially since while he knew they didn’t hate each other anymore, he wasn’t actually sure if Bruce still actually _liked_ him, or if it was more like mild tolerance. Especially when Hal knew that he was the reason for the distance between them. And mild tolerance was great for work, but it wasn’t exactly the best basis for sex with your, admittedly, hot as fuck, dom-y as all hell coworker. 

They sat there in silence for a minute, Bruce seemingly relaxed behind Hal and Hal sitting too stiffly for words. Hal would force himself to relax, or at least start to, and then Bruce would breathe and Hal would stiffen back up to keep from shivering. 

“I won’t hurt you, Hal,” Bruce finally said. He sounded…sad. Hal had only heard that twice in all the time they’d known each other, and both of those had to do with Bruce’s children. It still cut into Hal like a knife to the gut.

“I know that, Bruce,” Hal said, his voice just as soft as Bruce’s. He opened his eyes and watched their reflections in the plasi-steel window. Bruce hadn’t closed the cowl’s lens again. Which definitely didn’t actually make any of this any easier. “Not exactly what’s bothering me.”

“Well, I doubt it’s the small space,” Bruce said, his dry delivery sounding more like himself. 

Hal cracked a smile. “No, that’d be a whole different set of issues.” He reached up and rubbed his forehead. “Don’t worry about it, Spooky. We’re fine; just ignore me.” 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been able to ignore you, Hal.” Bruce’s hands squeeze down on Hal’s hips again, this time holding on until Hal could feel every finger burning into his skin through the thin layer of his uniform, hot and tight and _perfect_. Hal couldn’t stop himself from choking on a bit of breath, or the way his body just sank back into Bruce’s, head tipping back onto his shoulder. For one glorious moment, they just hung there, and then Bruce let him go, moving his hands off of Hal’s hips and turning his head so that his breath brushed past the side of Hal’s head. “I apologize. I gave you my word, and that was crossing the line.” 

Hal panted for a moment, blinking hard to try and reset his brain. It would figure that Bruce would be able to hit about forty of his buttons dead center with barely an effort. And it was just their luck that the two of them would fall into this, here and now, where and when Bruce’s honor would probably stop them from ever doing anything. 

If anything was going to happen here, Hal would have to be the one that started it. And it would have to be Hal pushing this because he knew that this was as close as Bruce would ever come to saying anything. He’d seen it in action over the years: Bruce would openly flirt with women, parade his interest out in the open for any and all to see, but with men, he’d be more subtle about it. If you knew what to look for (and Hal had been doing it himself since before he’d joined the military, so he definitely knew what to look for), the skill Bruce had with flirting with men, with making his interest known, was the stuff of legend. 

But it was never out in the open, and it was never pressed on anyone who had turned him down. And Hal might never have said anything to Bruce, but Bruce was not any kind of idiot. He’d had to have known that Hal had felt something (what Hal wouldn’t even bother to guess) enough to deliberately put space between them. That would have been enough for Bruce’s paranoid mind to mark Hal as a ‘no go’. 

That Bruce had even done as much here was more of a miracle than Hal could have expected after what had happened at Oliver’s birthday party. 

“Bruce, that didn’t hurt me,” Hal said, trying to calm his racing heart. He sat up and twisted again, because if he was going to have this conversation, he was going to have it actually looking at Bruce. “And it certainly wasn’t you ravaging me.” 

“You’ve made your disinterest clear,” Bruce said, voice gone quiet again. He had his hands on the armrests of their chair, in what Hal would guess was a white knuckle grip, and his head was tilted back against the back of the chair. The cowl’s lens were firmly in place again. “I gave you my word, and I broke it in spirit, if not in letter.” 

Hal had the familiar urge of wanting to both slap and kiss Bruce silly. He’d laughed with Oliver more than once about Bruce’s tendency to be an old fashioned kind of gentleman, even if he’d admitted to Barry just as often that it was something that Hal respected. He’d kept to himself just how badly it also turned him on. Hal didn’t know if this was likely to go anywhere, but on the chance that this was his only chance, Hal didn’t want to waste it. He’d done enough of that already. 

So like a good number of decisions in Hal’s life, he took a quick look at the pros and cons of the situation, and then made his decision. Which basically boiled down to: Fuck it.

“Bruce, can you take the cowl off? Please,” Hal asked. He put a hand, feather soft, onto his chest, directly over the Batman symbol. Bruce raised his head, and Hal could tell he was looking at Hal quizzically by the way he tilted his head. “I’d prefer to have this conversation face to face, so to speak.” 

Bruce watched him for a moment, before his hand came up and he traced a line along the bottom edge of Hal’s mask with his finger. “If you think that wise.” 

“Well, you know me, Spooky. I’m a font of wisdom,” Hal joked. He grinned at Bruce, and with a thought, vanished his mask. Hal took a chance and turned his head enough to press a kiss to Bruce’s fingertip. “Face to face, yeah?”

He felt Bruce’s sharp inhale and the way he stiffened against him. Hal held as still as he could, just waiting for Bruce to make his decision. If Bruce shot this down, well, Hal would survive. He’d probably wish for death, but he’d live. He was getting kind of used to that feeling anyway.

It took a little while, long enough that Hal was starting to worry that he was actually going to have to go with his fall out plan, but Bruce finally reached up and pushed the cowl off. His hair was a sweaty mess and his face was as blank as Bruce could make it, but Hal could still read the nervousness in it. It was all telegraphed in the jawline, after all. 

“There you are,” Hal said. He felt relieved and a little excited, maybe even tentatively happy. This was already going better than Hal had ever thought would be possible and fuck. It wasn’t like either of them never did at least six impossible things before breakfast anyway. He reached up and ran a finger along Bruce’s jawline, wanting to sooth away some of Bruce’s fear. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce said, obviously on automatic. Then he frowned. “Jordan, what are you doing?”

“Hoping I’m not about to make an even bigger fool of myself,” Hal told Bruce. He leaned in, slow enough to completely telegraph his intent, and pressed his lips softly to Bruce’s. 

There was a moment, a terrifying moment where Hal could feel his stomach start to drop out of his body, like hope was draining out of his body in an actual physical way. He pressed a second, firmer kiss to Bruce’s lips, and then Bruce’s hand cupped his face. Bruce moved Hal to where he wanted him and deepened the kiss, taking what he wanted and Hal gladly giving it to him. 

One kiss turned into two turned into three turned into Hal losing the ability to count entirely. He sank into the feeling of Bruce against him, under him, one hand guiding Hal’s head, the other dropping back to Hal’s hip, holding him deliciously tight. Hal still hand one hand cupping Bruce’s jaw, the other braced against his chest, barely holding himself upright as adrenaline and lust soared through his body. 

The world was spinning when Hal finally pulled back. His lips felt swollen and bruised, and he was harder than he could ever remember being from just making out. He’d known the two of them had amazing chemistry, but the experience was so much more. 

“Well, not a complete fool then,” he finally said. Bruce’s eyes were dark and he was watching Hal as intently as Hal was him. The comment caused Bruce to make a face somewhere between laughter and exasperation, which was so close to their normal that Hal couldn’t help but grin at him. 

Lord help him, but Bruce was actually kind of adorable. 

“If you are, then I am as well,” Bruce replied, his voice smokey and rough. He rubbed a thumb over Hal’s cheek and Hal heard his rough inhale like a physical blow when Hal just closed his eyes and leaned into it. “What are we doing here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I had no idea?”

“No,” Bruce said, firm enough that Hal opened his eyes to look at him. Bruce was watching him, intent, expression settling somewhere between worried and, still, exasperated. “What do you want, Jordan?”

“You, anyway you’ll have me,” Hal said immediately. He knew without a doubt that Bruce wouldn’t give him another shot at this. Hal didn’t know if he could be completely honest about the depth of his feelings - with Bruce or himself - but he could give him this much. “And it’s Hal.” 

“Hal,” Bruce breathed out. He pulled Hal back into another kiss, this one sweet and lingering but making Hal’s blood sing even louder in his veins. “ Do I have to mention that this is probably not the time or place for this?”

“You have anything more pressing scheduled?” Hal asked. He leaned in this time, kissing the corner of Bruce’s mouth before sliding his tongue along his bottom lip. Bruce opened up to him, sweet and easy, and Hal dipped in briefly, just long enough to tease. He pulled back and ran his fingers over Bruce’s jaw, marveling at the way Bruce leaned into them, as if inviting them to linger. “What do you want, Bruce?”

Bruce turned his head to press his lips against Hal’s wrist, before nipping at the base of Hal’s thumb. He grinned wickedly at the soft noise Hal made. “You, any way you’ll let me.” 

“Keep that up, honey, and you’ll find me open to just about anything,” Hal said. He was getting the feeling though, that Bruce was holding back a little as well. Fair was fair, Hal supposed, and anyway, he knew exactly what kind of milage he could get out of an inch. 

“Is that so?” Bruce murmured. The look he gave Hal, long and lingering over the entire length of Hal’s body, pausing on the grip he still had on Hal’s hip, before meeting Hal’s eyes again sent shivers racing along Hal’s spine. It was a challenge and a warning, and it wasn’t at all possible that Bruce didn’t know exactly how Hal would react to that. As it was, it would have taken Hal from zero to sixty if he hadn’t already been there. 

“And if at this exact moment, I want to fuck you? Would that interest you?” Bruce asked. The rough and smokey tone from before must have been just a side effect of the kissing because there was a deliberateness to his timber now, pitched just low enough to be almost a caress in and of itself. Hal had never had a voice kink before, but damn if that hadn’t just risen to the top of the list. 

And that was all before Bruce’s actual words registered.

Hal pulled Bruce into another kiss. There was no lingering sweetness or teasing in this one, just teeth and tongue and lips. Because, yes, he want Bruce inside of him with a sudden ache that had him clenching down on nothing. Because a simple ‘yes’ did not seem enough to convey the ‘get the fuck in me now’ feeling singing through Hal’s veins.

“Yeah, pretty sure that’ll hit the spot,” Hal said when they finally broke apart. He grinned at the annoyed pinch that wrinkled Bruce’s forehead and wiggled his eyebrows when Bruce just sighed. 

“You can’t take a damned thing seriously, can you?” Bruce grumbled, but he was grinning as he pulled Hal into another kiss. “To clarify: I want you, Hal. On my lap, back against my chest. I want to play with you and for you to be a good boy while I do it. How does that sound?”

“Perfect and I trust you,” Hal said. He kissed Bruce again, soft passes of his lips that teased more than anything else. “You gonna put me where you want me?”

“I’m going to take good care of you, sweetheart,” Bruce clarified, smiling. That was another new point for Hal - he’d only ever seen Bruce smile at his kids or, like, Clark. Bruce was already unfairly handsome, was the thing, and the bastard knew it enough to really work it. “Anything I need to be careful of? A preferred safeword?”

There was that gentlemanly part of Bruce again. Even in a decrepit space pod floating aimlessly through space with an engraved invitation to throw down, Bruce consistently checked in. Part of Hal wanted to snap at him, but that was the weaker part that had previously backpedaled from Bruce, the one that had thrown out the weak, see-through excuses (Lord, the shampoo comment was never going to stop grating on his nerves). But Hal found it easy to just shove that part aside. He wanted Bruce, Bruce wanted him, and he wasn’t going to let himself get in his own way anymore. 

Barry would be so proud of him. 

“Not a big fan of being called a whore,” Hal admitted. That was the understatement of the year, wasn’t it? “Most other things are negotiable. I am a big fan of manhandling and having my hair pulled. And I don’t have a preferred safeword.” 

That made Bruce frown. For all that their lives continually gave them very little choice about the rules they had to follow - military life for Hal, the public eye for Bruce - Bruce was kind of a stickler for the rules. Granted, he could be a little arbitrary about which rules, but that just made him more interesting, if often infuriating. But before Bruce could launch into whatever rant he was preparing, Hal just laughed and kissed him again. 

“I usually stick with red, yellow, green because I don’t exactly play enough to have a usual word,” Hal explained. He ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair, tucking the bits that had fallen into his face back into their usual arrangement. “Relax, honey.” 

“I’m not so sure I like this little attitude of yours,” Bruce said. He said it in a wry sort of way, like he knew just how ridiculous that sounded given the givens. He reached up and ran his own hand through Hal’s hair. It was soft and gentle at first, sweet enough that he could have sent Hal straight to sleep if he kept at it. But then he grabbed a handful, gave a sharp tug, and tugged Hal’s head to the side, baring his neck for Bruce’s teeth. 

Hal whined at the sensation, pressing his neck tighter into Bruce’s bite. Yes, sir, forty different kinks all in a matter of seconds. “Guess you’re gonna have to find a way to shut me up, then,” he gasped out. 

Bruce bit him again, this time just behind the hinge of Hal’s jaw. Hal moaned at the zing of pain, which turned into another whine when Bruce lingered, worrying the skin between his teeth. After an endless moment, Bruce shifted a little to the side and bit Hal again and again and again until all Hal could feel was the tender skin throbbing in time with his now leaking cock. 

An indeterminate time later, when Hal was floating in a pain-pleasure haze unsure if he wanted Bruce to stop or continue, Bruce pulled back. He settled back against the chair and took a lingering look at the mess he’d made of Hal. Hal was having trouble focusing, but all he wanted in the world was to go to his knees and suck Bruce’s cock down his throat. But they definitely didn’t have the space for that. 

Raincheck, then. 

“Shutting you up has never been this easy,” Bruce commented. He pulled Hal to him with the hand still in his hair and kissed him. Hal went easily, pressing as close to him as he could, which wasn’t nearly close enough. 

Fucking small spaces. Hal couldn’t wait to try this is a bed. Or, hell, even a closet. That would be larger than this damned space pod. 

“Turn around, sweetheart,” Bruce said. He took his hand out of Hal’s hair and helped him twist back around to their original position. He pressed a kiss to the back of Hal’s neck, just over the line of his uniform collar. “You naked under that uniform?”

Technically, Hal was. He didn’t know where his normal clothes went when he called out the uniform, and he usually tried not to waste energy thinking about it. But that still left him in just the Lantern shirt and pants. Which was, in Hal’s humble opinion, definitely a benefit in this situation. 

“You want me naked?” Hal asked. He raised his hands over his head and stretched as much as he could, arching his back and rubbing his ass back between Bruce’s thighs. He laughed when Bruce growled, taking a hold of Hal’s hips and pulling his ass square against Bruce’s covered cock. Hal couldn’t feel him through the armor, but thanks to the showers in the Tower’s locker rooms, Hal knew exactly what Bruce’s soft cock looked like. It gave him a very, very good idea of what he was working with here. 

“Yes, Hal, I want you naked,” Bruce ground out. He grabbed another handful of Hal’s hair and pulled his head back onto Bruce’s shoulder. He bit at Hal’s earlobe as his hand came around to hold Hal’s jaw, pining him in place. His other hand was trailing up and down Hal’s thigh, just skirting around the edge of Hal’s very hard cock. “I’ve always enjoyed the imagine of you naked and sitting on my cock.” 

Hal’s hand had dropped onto the chair’s armrests and he clutched at them as he tried to catch his breath and to slow the dizzying spin of his mind. If there was ever a reason to grade Bruce, then Hal’s was going to give him all of the A’s. Every single one of them. “That so? What, exactly, are you wearing in these scenarios?” 

“Usually? Full three piece suit. Occasionally the Batsuit,” Bruce said. He turned Hal’s head to the side, just enough so he could leave a trail of stinging bites along Hal’s throat. “Any thoughts? You’re being awfully quiet.” 

Hal was currently trying not to lose his mind. He couldn’t lie, the image of him riding Bruce, fully naked against Bruce’s clothed body was way hotter than it should have been. Had any of Hal’s past partners suggested it, Hal probably would have started throwing punches. But Bruce. Hal did trust Bruce, and the way Bruce presented it didn’t make it feel sketchy.

It felt more like Bruce wanted to savor him, like Hal was some kind of fine wine or an expensive dessert. And Hal was surprisingly into that. 

Hal twisted his head out of Bruce’s grip, so he could catch Bruce’s lips with his own, moaning when Bruce just shifted his grip back into Hal’s hair. Bruce moaned as Hal brought his own teeth into play, tugging hard on Bruce’s bottom lip before soothing the bite with a thorough suck. 

After a few minutes, Bruce tugged Hal off by his hair. “I asked you a question, Hal.” His tone brooked no argument and Hal couldn’t suppress the shudder that rocked his body. 

“Sounds fantastic,” he gasped. He reached down, located the invisible seam between shirt and pants, and tugged his shirt off, dislodging Bruce’s hands for just a moment. That was fine though, because as soon as Hal was free of the shirt (which disappeared…somewhere. Hal didn’t care.), Bruce’s hands were all over his skin, dragging his nails along the muscles in Hal’s stomach and coming up to cup Hal’s pecs. 

Hal had never admitted this to anyone, but he loved having his chest played with. If a partner ever showed an interest, though, Hal would nudge his partners elsewhere, or turn the tables on them, rather that just admit he wanted that kind of attention. He knew, intellectually, that that was a bullshit ingrained response, that held no really trunk in the world, but. There it was. He didn’t have to like it to know it was a truth for him.

Now, though, now he held back his initial response, literally bit it back, and arched to press his chest into Bruce’s hands. “Yeah, baby, that feels good.” 

He was starting to see that Bruce wasn’t going to give him this choice anyway. Bruce intended to play his body like a finely tuned instrument, and Hal was just along for the ride. Hal liked the idea, how there was something freeing in it, that Hal didn’t have to make the decisions here. He just had to trust Bruce, and he’d already admitted that he did. 

“You just enjoy, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Bruce said. He played with Hal’s breasts, rubbing and pinching and pulling and scratching, and Hal just went limp against him. His entire world seemed to narrow down to where Bruce was playing and Hal could distantly hear the noises he was making, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was wholly overwhelming and just so damned good, and Hal really didn’t want to give up this moment, where there was just him and Bruce and the pleasure Bruce was pulling from his skin. 

The pleasure was so good that Hal just sank into it, riding wave after wave until it threatened to consume him. Hal loved that edge, where he was riding between the pleasure and the pain until he couldn’t tell the difference between the two, didn’t want to, so he wasn’t prepared for what felt like a sudden drop into too much. 

He stiffened and tried to back away from Bruce’s hands all at once, but couldn’t actually go anywhere pressed against Bruce as he was. Bruce made a concerned noise and stilled his hands, just pressing over Hal’s chest even as Hal was whimpering out, “Yellow, yellow. Too much; yellow.” 

“Sh, sh,” Bruce murmured. He moved his hands to Hal’s stomach, rubbing gentle circles there as Hal tired to catch his breath. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart, so good. Can you talk to me? Tell me what wasn’t working?”

Hal took a series of deep breaths, pressing his temple against the side of Bruce’s jaw as his body shuddered out the last of the oversensitivity. It took him a minute, where Bruce just soothed him and waited for him, and that right there made it simple to shove aside the part of the Hal that wanted to recriminate himself for not just sucking it up. He knew that this was why they were using the light codes, that that was what they were intended for, and Bruce’s easy acceptance made it easier for Hal to accept it himself. 

“Just, oversensitive. Too much of a good thing,” Hal said. He raised his head a little, nuzzling in against Bruce’s jaw, just for the touch and not expecting anything. He hummed happily, though, when Bruce shifted the couple of inches to kiss Hal, sweet and gentle. 

“Thank you,” Bruce said when he pulled away. “You were beautiful, Hal. You enjoyed it?”

“Yes,” Hal said, immediately. He really, really had. “No one’s ever done that, for me, anyway.”

Bruce smiled at him. “Good.” He reached up and cupped Hal’s jaw. “I like the idea of giving you things you haven’t had before. You were so damned pretty like that.” 

Hal knew he was flushed already, he couldn’t not be after all of that, but he could still feel a blush spreading across his face at the compliment. Chalk it up to another thing he hadn’t known about himself. 

“Glad you liked it,” he said before leaning up for another kiss. It started out gentle and sweet, but quickly turned hot and wet when the hand not on Hal’s jaw dropped to cup Hal’s cock through his pants. Hal broke the kiss with a gasp, arching into Bruce’s hand as his nerves started singing again. “Fuck, yes, please, baby. Please.” 

“You beg so nicely, Hal,” Bruce said. He rubbed gently at Hal’s cock, riding out Hal’s aborted thrust, then squeezed gently as Hal’s hips settled back into the v of Bruce’s thighs. “There you go, let me take care of you.” 

“Fuck,” Hal whined. He shuddered as he tried not to move into Bruce’s hand. “Tell me you have supplies in that belt of yours, honey. I’m gonna go insane if you don’t get inside me soon.” 

Bruce chuckled, setting up a steady rhythm of two hard squeezes and a long slow rub over Hal’s cock. “We’ll get there,” he said. “I believe you were going to get naked for me, first.” 

Hal’s hands let go of their death grip on the chair immediately so he could shove his pants off of his hips. He didn’t care that it made Bruce laugh and let go of his cock; he wanted to be naked. Naked meant Bruce fucking him and there was nothing Hal wanted more in that moment. 

As he shoved the pants past his knees, he somehow had the wherewithal to think them and his boots away. He settled back against Bruce and could not suppress his shiver at the feeling of the Batsuit against his naked skin. He would have thought that he’d feel ridiculous like this, even more naked than he already was, but it was kind of the opposite. He’d never felt sexier, more settled in his skin. 

Bruce immediate started running his hands over Hal’s thighs, with occasional passes over Hal’s cock, which was very hard and leaking steadily over his stomach. Hal put his own hands on Bruce’s thighs, squeezing down every time Bruce touched his cock, because if he didn’t have something to hold onto, he was going to just take himself in hand and this would be over in less than a minute. 

“You are such a good boy, Hal,” Bruce said after a couple of minutes. Hal opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - and caught Bruce’s eyes in their reflection in the plasi-steel window. Bruce was hungrily taking in the view of Hal spread out in Bruce’s lap and Hal had to admit it was a very pleasing image. Like he’d said before, there wasn’t a member of the Justice League that wasn’t hot as hell, and that definitely included himself, and Hal certainly looked like something out of a wet dream or high quality porno. 

Hal watched as Bruce deliberately drug both hands up the length of Hal’s thighs, slow and steady, until he reached Hal’s hips. He did it twice more, the last time murmuring quiet instructions in Hal’s ear to spread his legs as Bruce grabbed his hips and lifted him up. Hal figured out what Bruce meant pretty quickly, lifting his legs up as Bruce closed his own, and then Hal was moaning at their reflections. 

He didn’t have a way to describe just how hot it was to literally see himself spread out over Bruce’s lap. “Fuck, Bruce, that’s…”

“You are very pretty, sweetheart,” Bruce told him. He took a hold of Hal’s cock with one hand, stroking him slowly from root to tip again and again as he rolled Hal’s balls in the other. Hal was leaking enough that what could have been a very painful jacking off with Bruce’s gloves was just intense and a little strange, the texture of the gloves very different from anything Hal had felt before. 

Hal’s head fell back onto Bruce’s shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly right on the edge of climaxing. He couldn’t help whining when that made Bruce growl, the vibrations shaking through Hal’s body. 

“No, Hal, open your eyes,” Bruce demanded. He gave the head of Hal’s cock a sudden, sharp squeeze that had Hal’s eyes flying open on a whimper. Bruce was watching him intently and there was an edge to his smile that Hal knew he didn’t want to push. “That’s better, sweetheart. Watch yourself; see how good you’re being for me, taking what I’m giving you.” 

It wasn’t easy. Everything in Hal wanted to close his eyes and fall back into the pleasure Bruce was giving him. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his nipples starkly red and puffy from Bruce’s earlier attentions, his leaking cock appearing and disappearing in Bruce’s grip, Bruce’s other hand tucked between Hal’s thighs. Hal couldn’t see what that hand was doing, but he could certainly feel it, and Hal felt like he was going to come out of his skin. 

“Bruce, baby, please. I can’t…please,” Hal moaned out. His hands were scrambling at the armrests again and his feet skittered against Bruce’s boots as he tried so hard not to twist in Bruce’s arms. “Please, honey, please.” 

“You can’t what, sweetheart?” Bruce asked. His smirk widened when all Hal could do was moan. “I’m willing to bet that you can go more than once for me, Hal. I want to see it. Come for me, sweetheart.”

Bruce twisted hard on the tip of Hal’s cock and pressed sharply behind Hal’s balls as he said it, and Hal was gone. There was nothing in the universe that could have stopped Hal from coming, not with the image of the two of them, Bruce all around him, and ordering him to come. Hal’s hands clamped down on the chair, his head fell back, and he thrust into Bruce’s hands as he road out the blazing white pleasure. 

It felt like an eternity before Hal stopped climaxing. It was probably from the way Bruce didn’t stop or let go of him, pulling every last ounce of come out of Hal’s balls, stroking until Hal was whining and pawing at his wrists, too incoherent in the moment to ask him to stop. Bruce just chuckled and let Hal’s cock, still half-hard, go. Hal whimpered at the cool air brushing against his wet, over sensitive skin, but he didn’t move, just went limp and tucked his head against Bruce’s jaw. 

“Damn, sweetheart,” Bruce said. He sounded out of breath for the first time and Hal felt a spark of warmth somewhere in the middle of his chest, knowing that it was him that had made Batman short of breath. “That was beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Hal murmured, sounding a little drunk to himself. He opened his eyes and immediately caught sight of Bruce’s glove, covered in Hal’s come. He didn’t even think before he reached out and took a hold of Bruce’s wrist, and brought his hand to his mouth to clean it. He felt more than heard Bruce’s moan, and he closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling of Bruce’s fingers in his mouth, the taste of his own come and leather intermingling with Hal’s desire to have Bruce’s cock down his throat. 

The first thing Hal was going to do after they got back to Earth was drag Bruce somewhere, anywhere, remotely private and get his mouth on Bruce’s cock. That was one hundred percent a promise to himself. 

“Fuck, Hal,” Bruce groaned as Hal finished chasing down the last taste of himself. 

Hal dropped Bruce’s hand and twisted in his lap, until he could pull Bruce into a deep and dirty kiss. “Bruce, that was fucking fantastic, but if I don’t get your cock in my ass in the next few minutes, I’m going to lose what’s left of my damned mind,” he promised when he pulled back again.

Bruce reached down and grabbed Hal’s cock, which started hardening right back up, chuckling at Hal’s mewling whimper of oversensitivity. “You not too sensitive, sweetheart?”

“No, not, don’t care,” Hal gasped. Bruce was stroking him again, twisting perfectly over the head on each upstroke and Hal was going to die here. He really was. “I need you, please, baby. Fuck me.” 

Bruce chuckled again, letting go of Hal’s cock and pulling him into another kiss. He pulled back, and guided Hal back around, until Hal was facing forward and leaning against the cool console of the pod. That brought Hal’s ass up into view and Bruce cupped one cheek roughly with one palm as the other pressed hard against Hal’s spine. “You stay right there, Hal. I’m going to get you ready for my cock. You won’t like the consequences if you move.”

Hal nodded roughly, bracing himself on his elbows. He didn’t really have much of a choice in this position and since all he currently wanted was Bruce fucking him, he wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize that. “Yes, sir. I’ll…I’ll be good, promise.” 

He heard Bruce’s sharp intake of breath and was glad that Bruce couldn’t see the way saying that had made Hal blush. “You already are, sweetheart,” Bruce said, smoothing both of his hands over Hal’s ass. He gave his ass another squeeze, this time hard enough that Hal could feel cool air rubbing against his asshole, and then his hands left Hal. 

Hal heard the rustle and snap of Bruce’s belt pouches being opened and closed, and then the snap and rustle of the Batsuit being opened. He wanted so badly to lift his head and watch as Bruce pulled his cock out when he heard Bruce’s groan of relief. But he didn’t do it. He told Bruce he was going to be good and fuck if Hal was going to break that promise. 

Hal heard the snap of a bottle opening and a few seconds later Bruce’s hands were back on him. Hal jumped, a little, and heard Bruce chuckle, but he didn’t care because Bruce was holding his ass open with one hand while the other, slick with lube and a little cool, pressed against his hole. Hal moaned and pressed back against those fingers, wanting them inside of him, now. 

“Please, honey. Put them in me,” Hal begged. He could feel the way his hole fluttered against the gentle press of Bruce’s fingers, still in the gloves, and he thought he was going to lose his mind if Bruce didn’t hurry up. “Bruce, please.”

“Sh, sweetheart, sh,” Bruce said. “I’ve got you; you just relax for me.” 

Hal tried his best to, he did, but the most he could do was hang his head and whine. Thankfully, Bruce took pity on them both, and pressed the first finger inside. Hal groaned happily, clenching down rhythmically around the finger. It wasn’t enough, though, and obviously Bruce agreed, because he pulled out and came back with two fingers. 

“That good, Hal?” Bruce asked. He chuckled again when Hal just moaned and clamped down on his fingers again. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, good,” Hal gasped. Bruce was moving his fingers now, spreading them and stretching Hal, pumping in and out easily. “Don’t need much prep, baby, promise. Please.” 

Bruce pulled his fingers out again, ignoring Hal’s disappointed groan. Hal forced himself to hold still, even though he wanted nothing more than to follow those fingers until they were back inside of him. He was rewarded with the sound of the lube bottle opening again. Seconds later, three of Bruce’s fingers were inside of him and Hal was groaning happily. Bruce didn’t do much with them, though, just pressed them in, along with a fair amount of lube, and then they were gone again. 

There was another quick rustling, and then Bruce’s hand was on Hal’s hip, urging him to lean up and back again, until Hal was poised over Bruce’s lap, Bruce’s cock head pressed just inside Hal’s hole. 

“Hands on the armrest, Hal,” Bruce ordered. Hal did as asked, quickly, and braced himself there. “Good boy. Now you are going to fuck yourself onto my cock, and you are going to do it slowly. I want to feel all of you, understand?”

Hal moaned and nodded. His arms were already shaking, but he would do exactly what Bruce wanted. “Yes, sir. May I, please?”

Bruce’s hands left Hal’s hips to rub up and down Hal’s back. Hal shivered and whined, but stayed where Bruce had put him. “Good boy,” Bruce murmured, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the center of Hal’s back. When he sat back, his hands were on Hal’s hips, and he gave Hal a gentle tug. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” 

Hal moaned and started to lower himself down. Bruce had told him to fuck himself onto his cock, so Hal just took in an inch or so, and then rose back up until the lip of Bruce’s cockhead caught on his rim, and then Hal started all over again, taking in a little more of Bruce each time. By the time Hal was settled fully onto Bruce’s cock, they were both shaking and Hal had broken out into a sweat all over his body. 

Bruce’s cock was possibly one of the best Hal had ever had inside of him, and Hal didn’t mean that just because he was one of the biggest. It was torture, that was what it was, taking that inside of him and then not moving, just being held still by Bruce’s hold on his hips. It was overwhelming because, well, that was a lot of cock and it was thick and long and Hal wanted nothing more than for Bruce to push him onto his stomach and take what Hal was freely offering. 

But Bruce didn’t. He just held Hal in his arms, pressing kisses along the back of Hal’s shoulders, and listened to Hal moan and whine and fight not to just start riding Bruce like Hal’s body desperately wanted him to. 

“So good, sweetheart,” Bruce said. He pulled Hal back until they were back in their original position, Hal’s head on Bruce’s shoulder, Bruce pressed against the entire length of Hal’s back, Hal’s legs draped over Bruce’s. “Do you remember what I said I was going to do to you?”

It took Hal a moment to cast his mind back to earlier. For some reason, he was having a hard time thinking through the haze of pleasure. When the words came back to him, he groaned loudly. It took him a few false starts, but he finally said, “You wanted me on your cock. For me to be a good boy while you played with me.” 

“Yes, sweetheart,” Bruce said. He pressed a kiss to Hal’s temple. “I’m going to do just that. You just sit back, keep your hands where they are, and let me make you feel good.” 

“Already feel pretty good,” Hal said. He clenched down around Bruce’s cock as he thought about just how much Bruce was going to tease him now. He wasn’t really sure about it, but he wanted that so much right now. “I’ll be good, promise.” 

“I know, Hal,” Bruce told him. He kissed him gently as he let go of Hal’s hips and started rubbing his hands softly over Hal’s body. Hal moaned and sank back against Bruce, surrendering the whole of himself to Bruce’s whims. 

Bruce started it off simply. He touched every part of Hal’s body he could reach, except for Hal’s cock, which he left to lay leaking against his stomach. Hal just floated on the pleasure, not holding back any of the sounds Bruce was wringing from him. After what felt like a long while of Bruce just running his hands everywhere, Bruce pressed another kiss to Hal’s temple. “Remember to stay still, sweetheart. You’re going to take everything I give you.”

“Yes, sir,” Hal breathed. He barely managed it though, when both of Bruce’s hands came to his chest, grabbed his nipples and twisted. 

Hal didn’t know what sounds he was making, he just knew he did as he was told and didn’t move as Bruce played with his chest. It was perfect and horrible all at once as Bruce pinched and pulled and scrapped his nails over Hal’s nipples, playing Hal’s moans up and down the scales, before taking pity and soothing them with gentle touches and rubs. 

And when Hal could breath again, Bruce started it back up. He did it again and again, periodically asking Hal for a color, and when Hal didn’t yellow or red, he just continued. Hal was floating on the pleasure that slowly edged alongside the pain, but this time he just rode it because Bruce had asked him to. 

Because Hal was being a good boy. 

Hal didn’t know how long that went on. He just knew that his chest felt hot and used and sensitive to the point that just the movement of air over his nipples had him shaking and crying out. His throat felt a little scratchy, which meant he had been loud for a long time, and this time when Bruce asked him his color, Bruce sounded like it was him that had been fucked long and hard. 

“Give me a color, Hal,” Bruce said. He’d taken his hands off of Hal’s chest, resting one on Hal’s thigh, way too close to the base of Hal’s cock for his sanity, and the other sliding into Hal’s hair. 

Hal whined and gasped in a few deep lungfuls of air. “Green, green. All of the greens,” he said. “Fuck, Bruce, so good, please.” 

Bruce grabbed a handful of Hal’s hair and pulled him into a rough kiss. “Please what, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me, baby,” Hal gasped. He squeezed himself around Bruce’s cock, which felt like it had grown even larger inside of him. “I want to make you come; I want you to come in me.” 

Bruce growled and kissed him again. This kiss lasted a long time and Hal was dizzy by the time Bruce pulled him away. “Yes. You’ve earned that, sweetheart. Make yourself come on my cock.” 

It took a few tries for Hal coordinate his limbs enough to start fucking himself on Bruce’s cock. His legs were nearly useless, so he just pushed himself up with his arms until only the head of Bruce’s cock was inside of him, and then he let gravity pull him back down. After about a minute, Hal’s arms had started to shake, but Bruce had taken a hold of Hal’s hips and was helping to guide him up and down. 

“That’s it,” Bruce said. He held Hal aloft for a moment before pulling him down hard, his hips coming up at the same time. It was hard and perfect, his cock was pressing against Hal’s prostate with every movement, and Hal just leaned forward a little to give Bruce the best angle as he braced himself. Bruce was fucking up into Hal now, each thrust exactly what Hal had been craving for for years at this point. 

That knowledge sang through Hal’s body, pushing him even closer to the edge. Neither of them had a hand free for Hal’s cock, but Hal knew it wouldn’t matter at this point. He was so close already, nothing was going to stop him from coming now, maybe not unless Bruce told him he couldn’t.

“Baby, baby, please,” Hal begged. “I wanna come, so close, may I, please? Please let me come, baby.” 

Bruce growled, leaning forward and biting at the muscle in Hal’s back. Hal shouted and his cock jumped and he was holding back with just willpower at this point. “Yes, Hal, come on my cock. Milk me, sweetheart, let me feel how much you love my cock.” 

Hal cried out at that, hanging in that moment for an instant, an eternity, and then he fell. His muscles locked and his cock just pumped spurt after spurt of come as Bruce kept fucking into him. His mind whited out for a moment as the pleasure rang through him. 

When he came back to himself, Bruce was the only thing holding him up, all of Hal’s muscles having turned to jelly. He was done, his cock softening rapidly, balls feeling emptier than he had ever felt before, but Bruce was still hard inside him. He wasn’t thrusting anymore, just slowly rotating his hips in a circle, cock as deep inside of Hal as he could go, sending little zings of pleasure through Hal every time his cock pressed against his prostate. 

Hal should have wanted him out, should have been so oversensitive that he was begging Bruce to stop. But Hal was floating on the pleasure still singing in his veins, and Bruce still hot and hard and large inside of him was exactly what he wanted in that moment. “Fuck, Bruce.”

“Color?” Bruce gasped out. Hal could feel how much Bruce was holding himself back now, and his heart gave a little stutter in his chest at the realization. 

“Green, baby, green,” Hal said. He brought his hands to Bruce’s, trusting that Bruce wouldn’t drop him, and squeezed them gently. “You feel so good inside me. I kind of don’t want you to ever leave.”

Bruce choked out a laugh. “I can’t stay inside you forever.” He pressed his forehead against Hal’s back; Hal could feel him measuring out his breaths.

“I know,” Hal said. He arched his back, changing the angle again for Bruce, making it so that Bruce could get even deeper, and moaned when Bruce slid in further. “That’s it, baby. You’re so deep.”

“Hal,” Bruce gasped out. His hands were gripping Hal hard enough that there was a sting to it, but Hal didn’t want him to stop. 

“Fuck me, Bruce,” Hal said. “I want to feel you take what you want.” 

Bruce moaned, his entire body stilling. For a second, Hal thought he might have pushed Bruce too far, that he’d been too much, but then Bruce was shifting. He pushed Hal forward, until Hal was braced against the console again, moving him so that Bruce could shift up and get a good angle to brace himself, and then he was fucking Hal. 

It wasn’t too deep or hard at first, Bruce no doubt making sure of every angle, that Hal was serious in wanting Bruce to keep fucking him. But when all Hal did was moan happily and push back into each thrust, reveling in feeling of being fucked without the pressure of chasing his next climax, Bruce loosened up and really started to give it to Hal. 

It wasn’t long before Bruce was fucking him as hard as he had when Hal had come on his cock. Hal reveled in it, moaning and crying out at every ounce of pleasure Bruce was giving him, milking Bruce’s cock as much as he could. Bruce was moaning as much as Hal was, and Hal could feel his sweat dripping from his forehead onto Hal’s back as he bent over Hal. 

“Come on, baby,” Hal moaned. “Fuck me. Please, oh, so good, Bruce. So fucking good to me.”

“Hal,” Bruce bit out, and then he was coming, dragging Hal back onto his cock. His hips stilled for a moment, almost a stutter, and then he trust again, once, twice. Hal could feel his cock jerking inside of him. Then, with soft sound, Bruce stilled, nearly crumbling around Hal. 

They stayed that way for a few minutes, Hal holding them both up and whispering sweet words and praises as Bruce tried to catch his breath. Just as Hal was starting to wonder if he could actually keep holding them up, Bruce shifted, pressing a kiss to Hal’s shoulder blade. 

“Deep breath,” Bruce warned. He gave Hal a second to process that, and then he was moving back, sliding out of Hal. 

It took a few minutes, but eventually they’d cleaned up as much as they could (the amount of things that Bruce had hidden away in his belt pouches should worry Hal more than it actually did). They settled back into the lone chair, Hal in Bruce’s lap, Hal back in his uniform because it was surprisingly chilly in the space pod. 

Hal had one of Bruce’s hands in his own, cleaning off the last of the whatever it was that was coating it. “Thoughts?”

There was a pause before Bruce asked, “Thoughts?”

Hal sighed, honestly wishing he could just take a nap and deal with the talking part of this equation at some later time. Like maybe never. “‘Any regrets’ might actually be the better question.” 

“Hal,” Bruce sighed. He took his hand back from Hal’s and used it to turn Hal to face him. “I should be asking you that question. But no, I have no regrets. Other than our timing could have been better.” 

Hal snorted. “Yeah, no joke.” 

He stared Bruce for a minute, watching Bruce watch him. And then he sighed, turning back around, Bruce’s hand falling from him. “Okay, no regrets. Other than timing. And, for your information, I am interested. In you, specifically.” 

“Hal,” Bruce started. He stopped, tapping his fingers against the armrest. Hal could see him still watching him in their reflection, but he couldn’t read Bruce’s expression. And in Hal’s experience, that was not a good thing.

Bruce opened his mouth to continue talking. 

That’s when the alarms started wailing.

|-|

It took some time to get the alarms shut off. When they had, whatever openness there had been between them before was officially gone. Hal wanted so badly to bring it back up, to finish their conversation before they never got back to it. But it turned out that they really didn’t have time for that.

“I fucking told you that Ancuin tech was fucking shit,” Hal muttered. He was trying to get a trajectory reading or, hell, any kind of fucking reading from the basically worthless computer console attached to the pod, but wasn’t having any kind of luck. After the third time, the damned thing spat out an error message that translated to “Fuck off, asshole. You don’t have clearance.” Hal was about ready to stab it to a pitiful death, but realized that wasn’t the healthiest response he could have. 

That, and the computer was the only thing keeping what little life support they had going. 

“As you’ve mentioned,” Bruce agreed. He’d taken his own turn at the computer, but had gotten the same response. Hal didn’t know why he thought he might have better luck, Bruce was a thousand times better at this kind of tech then Hal was. “We need to face the facts here.” 

“Oh, and just what facts are those, Spooky?” 

“The likelihood of our survival is very slim,” Bruce said. The words were brisk, but his tone was not. Hal felt an irrational jolt of anger at the idea of Bruce trying to let him down easy, like Hal was one of his kids or a victim he was rescuing out of some back alley. “The Zoran likely planned on both of us dying to reinvigorate their civil war.” 

Hal had had an inkling of that himself. He knew that this whole fucking thing had been a bad fucking play, start to finish. “Can they really call it a civil war, them being from different planets and all?”

“Jordan,” Bruce sighed. He hadn’t bothered to pull the cowl back up, so Hal could see him close his eyes, like he was physically pained by Hal’s response. Or his presence. Hal was pretty sure that he was not who Bruce had thought he would die alongside. 

“Look, Spooky, you might have chosen to give up, but I’m still breathing, so I’m still fighting,” Hal said. He raised his hand, making sure the Lantern ring was full visible. “I don’t have enough juice to get us home, but I have enough juice to get us somewhere the Javelin can locate us.” 

“I’m not giving up, Jordan,” Bruce said. He sounded so very tired. “I’m looking at the facts. Even if you could get us close enough for the Javelin to stage a rescue, we don’t have enough time left in terms of life support…”

“We will if we stop arguing,” Hal broke in. He made a face at the raised eyebrow Bruce gave that thought. He was well aware that their track record on not arguing did not make it likely, but they were both professionals. They’d do it because they had to. “I know you, Bats. You woke up before me, so you have a better idea of where we are. Point me in the right direction and I’ll get us home.” 

Bruce watched him for another minute. Then he nodded, face tight and closed off, and pointed somewhere off to the left. “That way.” 

Hal nodded back. “Thank you, Spooky.” 

He raised his ring again, closing his eyes as he willed up a tiny jet engine to sit on the back of the pod. If he did it right, he could feed enough energy into the construct engine and still have enough power to feed into the life support systems. They wouldn’t be comfortable - the cold was going to start affecting them before anything else - but they should make it. 

As the little engine roared to life, Hal could have sworn he heard Bruce say, “I trust you, too, Hal.”

|-|

Space was fucking boring.

How Hal had ended up in a position to even have a concrete feeling on this subject boggled Hal’s mind on a regular basis, but there it was. Space was fucking boring and Hal hated it. 

Especially when he’d been floating in it for the last eighteen hours. At least, that’s what Hal figured. He couldn’t really ask Bruce for any clarification at this point. Life support was near to failing, so they were talking as little as possible. 

Not that Bruce was awake for Hal to talk to, anyway. They’d settled into four hour shifts - one on, one off - to conserve their own energy. The Ancuin, or more specifically, the Ancuin pirates that had tossed them overboard hadn’t left them with any supplies and the Batbelt had basic first aid, but no food or water. 

In all reality, they would have been much better off if Hal could have kept it in his pants. He wasn’t an idiot, despite the way he, mostly, opted to go through life, and he was more than capable of doing the math. Their little tryst had cost them at least ten hours that they really couldn’t spare. 

On reflection, though, and Hal had nothing but time for reflection right now (had he mentioned that space was. Fucking. Boring.), he wouldn’t change it. Even if they didn’t make it, or especially if they didn’t make it. He’d gotten his shot at Bruce. He still didn’t know if Bruce was interested in more than just sex, but. 

He’d gotten to sleep with Bruce at least. He knew what Bruce tasted like, what he sounded like, and how it felt to be held safe in those strong arms. If Hal wasn’t going to make it out of this one, then at least he’d gotten that. 

Hal shivered suddenly, the motion shaking him out of his thoughts. The edges of the plasi-steel window were icing over to the point that Hal could barely see out of them. He thought about trying to clear them again, about whether he had the energy for it, and decided not to bother. It wasn’t like there was anything out there for him to see anyway. 

Hal looked down at his ring. They really only had one play left to them, and it wasn’t a very good one. The ring was the only thing that was keeping them alive at the moment, but it wasn’t doing them any good at the speed they were going. If they had any chance at all, they had to get somewhere the Javelin could pick up on them. 

Hal turned and looked at Bruce. He’d pulled the cowl back up a while ago, to help conserve heat, so Hal couldn’t see most of his face, but Hal still thought the man looked peaceful. Definitely more peaceful then Hal had ever experienced. It was a good look on him. 

Fuck, but Hal loved him. And he was probably never going to be able to say those words to him. Not on the off chance that Bruce would say it back or even just to let the other man know. Hal had wasted his shot, and they were both going to pay for it. 

All right, Jordan. Time to do the right thing, then. Hal grinned at his stupid attempt at gallows humor and brought the ring back up again. One last chance, and Hal pushed all of the power he had left in the ring and himself into the life support and his little jet engine. It was a very long shot, but Hal had taken on worse bets. 

When that was done, Hal was shivering again, because he just didn’t have the energy to keep up his insulated uniform, and that left him in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Hal curled up against Bruce’s chest and tucked his cape firmly around them both. He smiled sadly at Bruce’s little grumble. 

At least there was one benefit to space being so damned boring. It made it easier to fall asleep.

|-|

It was a crashing sound and the screeching of tearing metal that woke Hal up. He was freezing and his head was foggy and breathing was fucking agony, but he was awake. Really.

“Bruce! Hal!” A male voice. Sounded worried. And familiar. Why did Hal know that voice?

“Fuck, they’re both out. That’s not good.” Another male. Also worried, also familiar. 

“They’re still breathing, but we need to get them out of there. I don’t know how long that’s going to last.” The first voice again. Why couldn’t Hal move? That should probably bother Hal more than it was.

“Right, right. I’ll get the infirmary ready.” The second voice, already moving away.

“Hal, Bruce, if you can hear me, you’re all right. You’re going to be fine. We’ve got you and we’re taking you home.” The first voice again. Hal trusted him, but he couldn’t stay awake. It was too cold and his head hurt.

|-|

The next time Hal woke up, he was back on the Tower. He knew that because he recognized the stain on the ceiling. It looked like Aretha Franklin and it was one hundred percent Oliver’s fault. He blinked up at it and wondered why it looked like it was blinking back.

“Hey, there. Look who’s back in the land of the living.” Barry’s voice reached Hal’s ears before Barry did. Or, at least, before Hal remembered how to move his head. And that he probably should. 

“Bar?” Hal asked. Or, at least, Hal tried to ask. He was having trouble getting his mouth to work. 

Barry smiled at him as he reached down and helped Hal sit up a little. Then he slipped a small sliver of ice into his mouth. The shock of cold and wet got Hal’s nerves working again, and he swallowed as the ice melted away into water. 

“You’re back on the Tower, Hal,” Barry was explaining. “You and Bruce both made it. I don’t know what stupid ass thing you were thinking you were doing, asshole, but you probably saved both of your lives.”

“Well, that’s a plus,” Hal said. His voice was very scratchy and his throat probably should have been killing him. He was also definitely probably on some of the fun drugs then. 

“Hmm,” Barry agreed. He gave Hal another ice chip, this one a little bigger than the last and continued talking. “We were lucky we found you when we did. Doc said if it were any later, you definitely wouldn’t have made it. Bruce might have, but you were pretty far gone with the hypothermia.” 

Hal raised an eyebrow at Barry. He was too tired to really ask any questions, but he’d really appreciate it if Barry could actually tell him what had happened. Oliver would just ignore him, but occasionally Barry proved that he was the better friend. 

This happened to be one of those times. 

“The Ancuin that oh so kindly left you two to float your way home turned out to be, well, war profiteers,” Barry explained. “They’d hoped that if the two of you disappeared on the way home, that we’d go to Zora, get things stirred up to the point that the Zora would accuse the Ancuin government of fucking up, and then the war would start all over again. Clark and Diana are there showing them just how badly they fucked up.”

Hal smiled at the image. There was nothing quite like Superman and Wonder Woman on the war path. Still. “Bruce?”

“Already back in Gotham,” Barry said. He gave Hal another ice chip. “Something about an Arkham plot, weird drugs, and the kids. Also, he wasn’t the idiot that basically used himself as a triple A battery for the trip home.” 

“Hey, I rate at least a cell phone battery,” Hal protested. 

Barry glared at him. “9 volt.” 

Hal had the grace to wince. He hadn’t meant to use himself as a power source, but he was still pretty thrilled that it had worked. “At least I’m not a potato.” 

“Also, Dinah has added you to her warpath,” Barry said, ignoring Hal’s comment. Hal figured that was for the best. “Just so you’re aware.” 

And Hal was going to die. That was a pretty quick turn around for him. 

“Ollie has offered to stand in the line of fire for you, since you and Bruce almost dying means he’s not as deeply in the dog house as he was,” Barry continued. He was laughing at Hal and Hal could barely muster up the energy to glare at him. “I’ll let Ollie know you’re considering it. You go back to sleep. Doc says you’ll feel better once you’ve gotten some rest. Plus, you know, all the nutrients she’s pumping into your IV. You should know that she’s also not pleased about how run down you were to start with.”

“It’s been a…” Hal started to protest.

“Long couple of months with the Corps,” Barry finished for him. “We’re aware. Go to sleep, Hal. We’ll talk later.” 

Hal didn’t want to let Barry have the last word, but he was already falling back asleep. It sucked, but he was well aware of this process.

|-|

Hal didn’t have the chance to talk to Bruce again for another month after their rescue. From what he could gather from Barry and Oliver, the case Batman had rushed back into had blown up, figuratively and very literally. Hal had spent a few days in the infirmary being yelled at by everyone who came to make sure that he knew that they were glad he was still alive, but that they still thought he was an idiot.

Hal figured that all of that was fair enough. He spent a good portion of those days calling himself an idiot himself. Granted, that was more for hoping that it was Bruce coming through the door every time it opened and less about how he’d almost died again. 

And then Hal was called back to Oa for his review. It…was not a good time. Hal almost died, again, but he did help stop a minor planetary takeover on Xogvax, so he took it as more of a win than a loss. Though he did take the time to chew Kilowog a new one. Because Hal needed a damned vacation before he fucking snapped. Kilowog promised to see to Hal being pulled from rotation for a few Earth months.

Hal would take what he could get. 

And then he was back on Earth. His apartment was still his apartment, Miss Miriam was still hot as fuck, Carol was pissed at him, and Hal still had no fucking idea what he was going to do about Bruce. Who hadn’t responded to either of his phone calls or the few text messages he’d managed.

Hal closed his empty fridge and rubbed his hand over his face. So what else was fucking new.

|-|

Hal was lying on his couch contemplating whether he had the energy to go for Thai or if he should just say fuck it and order a pizza when Oliver called him. Hal, even having not seen Oliver since he’d damn near blew himself up, stared at his phone for a moment, wondering if he had the energy to deal with Oliver’s special brand of crazy.

Hal forced himself to answer the phone. He was starting to depress himself. 

“Oliver.”

“Hal! Ol’ buddy, ol’ pal!” Oliver shouted. He sounded cheerful and oblivious, which immediately put Hal on edge. That was an Oliver that was going to get Hal into trouble. “Look, I know that you aren’t doing anything right now - don’t protest, you know I’m right - so you should come over to my place.”

“I should.” Hal paused. It was possible his error was answering his phone at all. He should probably find a yurt in the mountains and disappear for a few years. “Ollie, the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you, me, and Barry hanging out at my place. Tonight. Like old times.” 

“What did you break?”

Oliver made a soft noise of hurt. “Hal, buddy, pal. How dare you? I’m trying to help you out, pull you out of your sad little rut, and you’re going to accuse me of breaking things?”

“Oliver.” 

“Hal,” Oliver returned. It was like talking to a bratty preteen. “Seriously, Hal. We haven’t hung out in forever. Come to Star City. Barry’s already on his way, and I picked up that shitty beer you like, special. Just for you.”

Hal caved. Oliver was right. It’d been forever since the three of them had hung out together. Hal tried to think back to the last time and he was surprised to find that it had to have been for Oliver’s birthday party. And Hal had spent that entire time freaking out about Bruce. 

Fuck, Hal was a shitty friend.

“All right, all right,” Hal said, giving in. He pushed himself up and went to grab his wallet, jacket, and boots. “I’ll be there in thirty, but there better be food, Ollie. I’m not drinking on an empty stomach. Doctor Thompkins is on my case enough as it is.” 

“You want what? Asian, Italian, Greek, Mexican…”

“Food, Ollie,” Hal interrupted. Fucking billionaires. “Just, some kind of food, Ollie.” 

Oliver laughed. “I got you, man. See ya on the flip side!” 

Hal shook his head, laughing as he pulled his boots onto his feet. Oliver was an absolute menace, but he was a good guy. Now, Hal had to see if he could take off from the roof or if the hooligans were boggarting his escape route.

|-|

They were all a few too many drinks in when Barry brought up Bruce. That was Hal’s story and he was sticking to it. It didn’t matter how many wounded looks Oliver was sending him from his sprawl in the arm chair, the foot from his previously broken leg perched on a matching ottoman, or how many smug knowing looks Barry was giving him from the other couch.

“What is this? Bruce and Hal? In a relationship?” Oliver demanded. He was pouting at Hal over his glass of whiskey. “I thought that was just a joke. How did I not know about this?” 

“Because you have a hard time keeping your mouth shut sometimes,” Hal said. He closed his eyes and rubbed his bottle of beer over his forehead. He should have seen this coming. Barry, god love him, was like a dog with a bone and he’d been gnawing this one for the most of the last year. “You know I love you, Ollie, but some things a man likes to keep to himself.”

“Really?” Barry asked. He was pointedly watching Hal over his own beer. “You don’t want to whine some more about how Bruce is awesome and probably a great lover, but would never want to have anything to do with you?”

“Okay, first off, I have never said any of that…” Hal started. 

“Oh, Bruce is a fantastic lover,” Oliver interrupted. He smirked at the both of them when they turned to stare at him. “What? We’ve known each other forever. And those socialite parties can get pretty tedious without some distractions.”

“...and I don’t whine,” Hal finished. He was a little distracted by the mental image of Oliver and Bruce, both in their fancy tuxes, fucking in the alcove of some rich assholes house. It is a pretty compelling picture, if Hal ignored the part where it had _Oliver_ in it. 

“You totally whine,” Barry told Hal, recovering from Oliver’s little truth bomb first. He turned to Oliver, opened his mouth, and then shut it again, frowning. 

“You want details, don’t you?” Oliver asked, his smirk getting wider. 

“I don’t,” Barry said slowly. He looked down at his beer suspiciously. “Did you lace this with something?”

Oliver frowned. “I’m hurt, Bar, you know me better than that.”

“Well, I thought I did, anyway,” Barry said. He looked at his beer again, and then set it down on the coffee table. Hal didn’t bother hiding his laugh, just laughed harder when Barry glared at him. “You and Bruce, really?”

“Me and Bruce, really,” Oliver said. “Look, it happened a couple of times, and then we both had bigger things to worry about. He was a really great lover, considerate and talented, and could go for hours. Dinah and I have talked about seeing if he was interested in a threesome, but the timing has never been right.”

“Well, here’s to learning new things about friends,” Hal said, raising his beer in a mock toast. Oliver just laughed and threw back the rest of his drink while Barry glared at him some more. “What, Barry?”

“That’s all you have to say?” Barry demanded. 

“What else is there to say?” Hal asked. It didn’t bother him that Oliver and Bruce had slept together because it wasn’t like Hal had been celibate his entire life either. Fuck, he and Oliver had made out that one time, way back when they’d first met, on a dare from Dinah. “Fuck, Ollie, you remember that dare from Dinah?”

Oliver roared with laughter. “I do! I especially remember how hot Dinah was for me that night, so, hey! Belated thanks for that one.” 

“I do what I can,” Hal laughed. He and Oliver started swapping stories about the other people they’d slept with that they both knew.

Barry got up and came back a few minutes later with another round. “All right, all right! Tone it down you two.” 

“Aw, thanks, Bar,” Hal said. He swapped out his old bottle for a fresh one and took a long swig. It didn’t matter what Oliver said, this beer was awesome. 

“Thank me by getting back to the topic at hand,” Barry said pointedly. Like a dog with a bone, for fuck sake. “You and Bruce. Or what would be you and Bruce, if you weren’t such a damn coward.”

“Wait, you two were serious about that?” Oliver asked. He sat up straighter and pointed at Hal. “Out with it, Jordan. I want details. Now.”

Barry laughed. “There aren’t any details. Hal has a crush that he won’t do anything about. Because he’s…” 

“A coward, yes, Barry. I understand you. And you’re a broken record,” Hal sighed. He rubbed his beer across his forehead again, wondering if it would even be worth it to come clean to them. It wasn’t like Bruce was all that interested in him now. 

“Hal…” Barry started before trailing off awkwardly. 

“You slept with him, didn’t you?” Oliver said. He was watching Hal closely, a soft knowing grin on his face when Hal looked over. “I know that look.” 

“I…Yeah, we did,” Hal admitted. He looked down at the coffee table, lost for a minute at the memory of Bruce’s hands on him, taking care of him and showing him things about himself he’d never would have suspected. And then trying to breath through the pain of losing that after all. “And you’re right, he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Hal, what the hell?” Barry asked. He had shifted to the edge of his seat, leaning forward towards Hal. Knowing Barry, he was probably thinking of coming over and, Hal didn’t know. Hugging Hal, probably. Barry could be very physical in his affection. Hal was just glad he was restraining himself; he didn’t know how he would take that just then. “What happened?”

“I took a shot, and a good time was had by all,” Hal said. He took a very long swig of his beer. It had soured a little. “Done and over with.”

“Uh-huh,” Oliver said. “Let me explain something about Bruce, as someone who has known the guy most of our lives. Bruce Wayne is an idiot.” 

Oliver was picking at the edge of his brace, which he was wearing on pain of his life from the Doc and Dinah, and because it was the most outrageous shade of green Hal had ever been forced to witness. He looked up after a minute and gone was goofball, lovable drunk Ollie, and in his place was the person who occasionally set out after bad guys with a bow and some trick arrows, the one who ran his own little collective of mini-me caped crusaders, the man who had actually made Dinah Lance stop and look twice. This wasn’t an Oliver that Hal saw all that often. 

“Bruce is possibly one of the smartest men on the planet, super disciplined, with a heart as big as that damned city he loves so much,” Oliver continued. He raised a finger. “But he is an idiot when it comes to romance. Most of his lovers have either ditched him for green pastures or have tried to kill him. That’s the type of shit that can make a man wary. And that’s before you add in all the Batman shit.” 

“Ollie,” Barry cut in. 

“One sec, Bar. Almost done.” Oliver pointed a finger at Hal. “When did you sleep with him?”

“Ollie,” Barry said again, this time a little more sternly.

Hal looked at Oliver, who looked patiently back, and thought to himself, fuck it. These two were the best friends he’d ever had. Literally closer to him than his actual blood brothers. Who else was he going to tell? “In the pod. When we thought we weren’t going to make it back.” 

And Hal had put that together later, that Bruce had already figured out that they hadn’t a damned chance of making it home. He’d added everything up and gotten ‘dead in the water’ before Hal had even shaken off the damn sedative. But Bruce had still slept with him, had given Hal that little bit of him he had to share, even if it left him with literally nothing else. 

“Jesus,” Barry breathed. Another Hal, an angrier one, would have read the look in Barry’s eyes as pity. Hal now, however, saw how Barry was hurting for Hal, and he took comfort in not being completely alone in his pain. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Oliver said. He took a deep pull of his drink, finishing off the bottle and slamming it down on the side table he’d been using all night. “Well, kid, Bruce is an idiot. But he wouldn’t sleep with you out of pity, I can tell you that much. Question is, what are you going to do about it?” 

Hal didn’t know how to answer that, even as he automatically called into question Oliver’s use of the term ‘kid’ in reference to Hal. But in the back of his mind, he kept thinking about it. 

What indeed?

|-|

Hal kept thinking about it, all throughout rest of the night and when he woke up, hungover as hell. He was still thinking about it when he went to work, as Carol yelled at him some more (which he deserved, given how much actual work he’d been absent for in recent months), as he flew the planes that he sometimes loved more than the ring that actually allowed him to fly.

He was still thinking about it when he got home that night, not long after dark, tired but not near enough to sleep. And as he ordered in a pizza because he still hadn’t had a moment to go grocery shopping Hal came to a few conclusions. 

One, Barry was more than right about him. He was a coward. He could talk the biggest game in the world, but at the end of the day, he’d had a chance with a great dude, not once but twice, and he hadn’t laid it all out on the table. He’d tried so desperately to keep himself safe that he’d fucked things up more than he should have. Not too surprising really. 

Two, Hal knew Bruce wanted him. He had ample evidence of that. And he hadn’t been wrong about the two of them having a shit ton of chemistry. There was also ample evidence of that. 

Three, they had both almost died. Granted, a fairly normal occurrence for the two of them. Par for the course, really. But from the outside, Hal could see where Bruce might have a little bit of guilt for the whole thing. Guilt was kind of Bruce’s MO, after all. Bruce probably thought that he’d lessened their chances of survival wasting resources when they’d slept together. But Bruce hadn’t been the only one in that pod, and he certainly hadn’t been the one who started it. 

Four, Hal loved him. It was that simple. It wasn’t a crush or a passing fancy. And fuck if Hal was going to let either of them walk away before they figured out if that was something just on Hal’s end or not. 

Hal stood up from his kitchen table, and packed away his leftovers. With any luck, he wouldn’t be home for the rest of the night. And if he was, well, he’d have leftovers and beer to wallow in.

|-|

Hal came into the Batcave the same way he had before the whole damned delegation happened. He was actually kind of surprised that his code wasn’t locked out or that no one tried to stop him. Granted, given the hour, there might not even be anyone home. The Bats did do their best work at night.

But as Hal rounded the last corner, he heard voices and a little bit of laughter. It was almost enough to make him stop and turn around, but Hal knew that if anything were to happen between him and Bruce, it wasn’t going to just be him and Bruce. Bruce was a single father, and Hal had to get used to that sooner than later. 

“Knock, knock! Anyone home?” Hal called out as he came out of the shadows into the main cavern. 

Standing at the big computer on the main floor of the cave was Bruce, Dick, and Jason. They were all in civvies, which was a little surprising. None of them looked surprised to see him and it wasn’t hard to figure out why, given that Bruce had the access tunnel Hal had just walked through on the main screen. 

“Hal, how goes it, man?” Dick called out. The kid was ten years into this business, and he still sounded as cheerful as he had the day Hal had met him. He even bounced the same way, if not all the way into the air. 

Dick always made Hal smile and tonight was no exception. “It goes, boy wonder. Did you three finally manage to wrangle that drug case?” Hal asked as he started his way up to them. About halfway there he decided, once again, that it was too damned far to walk and just floated the rest of the way up to them. 

It was worth it to smirk at the way Bruce glared at him. Hal might love the man, but that definitely didn’t mean he was going to give up digging at him. A man had to have his little pleasures in life. 

“We did, thanks,” Jason said. He was looking between Hal and Bruce, curious in a way that probably should have worried Hal. Should have, but didn’t. Hal trusted both Bruce and Dick, and he was willing to extend that trust Jason for the time being. “How’d you hear about that?”

Jason was the one Hal hadn’t had much time with, the wildcard in a group of temperamental hotheads. Hal remembered little Jason, before the Joker, the kid with the big smile and bigger laugh. His death had been a punch in the gut for most of the community, and his subsequent revival a topic of worry, hope, and joy. Rumor had it that the kid was harder than the rest of the Bats, but he was still the one most likely to stop and help a stray dog. 

“Rumor mill,” Hal said, remembering suddenly how Barry had mentioned it to Hal when he’d first woken up. 

“I’d asked for his opinion before our trip to Rorzea,” Bruce said. He looked good, if a bit tired, and more than a little annoyed at Hal. 

“‘Our trip to Rorzea,’” Hal repeated with a laugh. He leaned back against the console that he was going to end up thinking of as his spot. “That’s a way of putting it. Barry said something about them telling Clark they wanted us back to apologize for almost getting us killed? Did I hear that right?” 

Bruce continued to look annoyed. “Yes, you had. Clark turned them down, cited how you’d almost been killed twice now and how we’d hate for that to actually happen after all.” 

“Aw, you don’t want me dead, Spooky? I feel all warm inside,” Hal said, grinning. He’d shoved both of his hands into his pants pockets, watching how the three of them were communicating amongst themselves. He couldn’t translate it, not yet, but he could see it. 

“Why are you here, Lantern?” Bruce finally asked. From the way Dick smirked and Jason put his arm around Dick’s waist, Hal was guessing Bruce was on the losing side of their little communication. 

“Came to talk to you,” Hal said. He didn’t have anything to hide. “Our last conversation was interrupted what with almost dying, and you haven’t been answering my phone calls.”

“Some would have called that a clue,” Bruce told him. He was frowning at Hal in a way that made Hal worry about Bruce’s mug being forceably introduced to Hal’s general vicinity.

“Yeah, well, I’m sick of being called a coward, so here I am,” Hal said. He watched Bruce blink at that. “But if I’m interrupting, I can make myself scarce.” 

Both Dick and Jason were looking between them now. Hal wasn’t about to say that he’d slept with their dad, but he doubted either of them weren’t picking up the hints. Hopefully they wouldn’t try to step in to protect Bruce until after Hal had a chance to talk to him. He was well aware of how protective the Bats were. 

“Nah, man,” Jason said. “We were just stopping in to say hi. Which we have done, so we’re going to go.” 

“We are?” Dick asked. 

He and Jason had a quick little silent argument of their own before Dick rolled his eyes and Jason smirked. Dick walked over to Bruce and tugged him down real quick to press a kiss to his cheek, and Bruce went easily. There was nothing performative about it, just an easy sweetness of ingrained habit. Hal glanced away, catching Jason watching the little ritual with a fond look on his face. 

“All right, we’re leaving,” Dick announced. “Let me know about that event, Bruce. Don’t make me get Alfred in on this.”

“He means, don’t make me play the Alfred card,” Jason corrected, holding his hand out to Bruce. Their goodbye was more professional and would have seemed stilted if Hal couldn’t have seen the way Bruce’s eyes softened as he took in his younger son or the pleased smile on Jason’s face. 

It was a thousand times improved over what Hal had witnessed at Dick’s party nearly a year ago now. 

“Yes, I’ll get back to you,” Bruce said. “I just need to confirm the dates for Daimen’s class trip and Cassandra’s recital.” 

“Like we’d schedule something during the recital, Bruce,” Jason scoffed. He collected Dick, arm around the shorter man’s back again. “Tell the demon we said hi.” 

“Jason,” Bruce sighed, but both of the younger men just walked away. Bruce stood there watching them until they disappeared around a corner. Hal could hear an elevator starting up in the distance as Bruce turned back to Hal. “Jordan, why are you here?”

“It’s Hal, Bruce,” Hal reminded him. Some kind of emotion crossed over Bruce’s face but was gone before Hal could really identify it. “And, like I said, I want to finish our conversation. It’s kind of important to me that we do.” 

Bruce had leaned back against the desk, mug held tightly in his grip. “And if it isn’t important to me?”

He said it with an absolutely straight face, in his normal tone of voice. Like he was just commenting on the weather or the Gotham Knights’ latest loss. Hal knew, he _knew_ that it was a lie, just a way for Bruce to shield himself, to gauge the situation between them. But that didn’t change how it felt like a knife to the side, a blade sliding so smooth and easy between his ribs. 

Hal had to close his eyes at that, had to take the moment to breath through that pain. Otherwise, he was going to say something stupid, and absolutely obliterate any chance of an actual relationship with Bruce. It might take Hal a few (hundred) times around the block to pick up on the important shit, but he always got there eventually. 

“Wow,” he finally choked out. “I knew that would hurt, but that really had a kick to it, Spooky.” 

There was a rustle of clothing as Bruce moved. The clink of him setting down his mug. “Jordan…”

“Problem is, Bruce,” Hal steamrolled right over him. He’d been right, that night at Dick’s party - sometimes just taking liberties was the only way to get anywhere with Bruce. “Except, and I still can’t believe I have to keep saying this, I am not an idiot. You weren’t the only person in that pod.”

“Jordan, this won’t end well,” Bruce said. “We made a mistake.”

“Wow,” Hal repeated. He opened his eyes and looked at Bruce, a little incredulous. “Ollie was right; you are a fucking idiot.”

That pulled Bruce up short. He even managed a new facial expression, that same pinch of annoyance and exasperation that Hal was used to seeing from him. But under all that? Now that Hal knew to look for it, he could see amusement and a touch of warmth. It was a familiar look - Hal had seen it enough times in the mirror over the past year. That was the look of a man in love, and pissed off about it.

Hal pulled his hands out of his pockets and stalked over to Bruce. It was clear and intentional and, Hal knew, very sexy. Hal may be a true mess of a person, not have a single dollar in his savings account, but he had swagger. 

It was only because Hal was watching Bruce so intently that he caught the slight widening of Bruce’s eyes. Bruce turned and squared off, facing Hal, which made it easy for Hal. He just walked up to him, cupped his face, and pulled him into a kiss. 

Like in the pod, that first kiss was soft, gentle, more of a declaration of intent than a true kiss. Just enough to bring Bruce up to speed. And like in the pod, there was that moment where Hal wondered if this was it. Was Bruce going to push him away?

Hal pulled back a little, just enough to look into Bruce’s eyes, to feel the ghost of his breath across his lips. Bruce’s eyes were so blue, so clear that it wasn’t hard at all to see the spark of fear lingering behind a whole heaping lot of lust. That put them both on the same page, then. 

“Bruce, honey, you have me,” Hal said. “That’s why I’m here. The sex was fucking fantastic - pun damned well intended - but that’s just the beginning.” 

Bruce closed his eyes and Hal heard the click of his throat as he swallowed. That now familiar fall-swoop feeling in his stomach cropped up, but Hal just waited for Bruce. Bruce may be an idiot, but he was also the bravest man Hal had ever had the fortune of meeting. Hal already trusted him with his life, he could trust him with his heart.

“Hal, I don’t understand,” Bruce finally said. Hal heard the words, he did, but he also felt the way Bruce leaned into him, with his whole body. He felt the way Bruce tilted his head forward, just pressing their foreheads together. Bruce may have been the great detective, but Hal was no slouch in the clues department, himself.

“I may, just a little bit, be in love with you, Spooky,” Hal admitted, hoarsely. He wanted to close his eyes or wince away because damn if that hadn’t sounded like a complete lie. But if he couldn’t convince Bruce of the truth, with the truth, then there was no reason for any of this. 

Bruce’s eyes opened and he pulled back a little, just far enough that he could take a long, hard look at Hal’s face. Hal just stayed still, open as he knew how to make himself, and gave Bruce a little smile and shrug. As if to say, ‘Yeah. I don’t know either.’

And then Bruce smiled. It was a small smile, soft and so similar to the ones Hal had seen him give his children when they weren’t looking. But for all its small size, it was like breaking through the cloud cover on an overcast day into the bright, warm sunshine. It changed Bruce’s whole face, made him warm and happy in a way that Hal had never seen before. 

It was an expression that Hal vowed to see on Bruce’s face as often as he could. For the rest of their lives. 

“Hal,” Bruce said. His arms came up around Hal’s waist, tugging them together. “This is, possibly, the worst idea that you have ever had.”

Hal snorted out a little laugh. “Pretty sure you’re wrong, honey. Remember the blue pasta?”

Bruce winced and Hal laughed. He felt warm and free and safer that he’d ever thought possible. Bruce gave in a moment later, laughing with Hal, low and sweet where Hal’s was bright and warm. Bruce was still laughing when he pulled Hal into another kiss. This one was deep and heavy and sweet, like a promise. 

“You are an idiot, sweetheart,” Bruce said when he pulled back. “But then, I must be, too.”

“Why’s that?” Hal asked. He was a little distracted by Bruce bringing a hand up to cup Hal’s cheek.

“Because somewhere along the way, I fell for you, too.” Bruce smiled at Hal again before pulling him into another kiss. 

Hal knew, even as they stayed there, too wrapped up in one another to do more than make out like a couple of teenagers, that this was just the beginning. They might be in love, but they still had a lot to learn about each other, and about each other’s lives. But for the first time, possibly ever, that wasn’t a daunting prospect for Hal. He wanted to learn everything about Bruce, wanted to share everything about himself with Bruce, he wanted to become that kind of couple that could stand two against the world. 

Even just looking at their track record as uneasy allies, well, the world had no idea what was coming. 

|-|

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, my extreme love for this pairing is wholly and 100% all [Arsenic's](https://arsenicjade.tumblr.com/) fault. With a little bit of [FabulaRasa](https://fabula-unica.tumblr.com/) thrown in for good measure. Seriously, make sure you go read everything that these two have written, as it is all utterly wonderful. 
> 
> Also, thank you, Arsenic, for being an absolutely wonderful sounding board and helping me unstuck myself. You are a gem of a person, and I adore you. ♥


End file.
